Lobhita: The Story

After a while, she let out a deep sigh, lifted her head, looked at Raktim, and said, “You know, we’ve spent almost the entire evening talking, and I still don’t know what you do.”

Caught by surprise, Raktim looked at her and smiled.

“Really? I thought I had. Well, I work for an advertising and public relations firm. The office is near the Ulubari Flyover.”

She folded one leg beneath her, settled deeper into the sofa, and looked straight at him as he continued talking about his workplace and the nature of his work.

“And what about you?” he asked when he was done.

The question seemed to catch her off guard. The smile that had remained on her lips while he was speaking faded. The change was subtle, so subtle that Raktim almost missed it. Her fingers moved absently along the edge of her phone. For the first time that evening, she appeared unsure of herself.

No matter how much she tried to hide it, the uneasiness soon became evident in her expression. She seemed to be avoiding the question. It felt as though he had wandered into territory she preferred not to discuss.

“Did I ask something wrong? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” Raktim said, trying to ease the situation.

“No,” she said quietly.

“It’s okay. Just that…” She looked away towards the ceiling fan spinning at full speed, as though searching for the right words.

“What?” Raktim asked lightly.

A faint smile crossed her face, as if she was trying to make up her mind about something.

“I just never know how people are going to react,” she finally said, breaking the lingering silence.

That caught his attention.

“React to what?”

She remained silent for a few moments before looking back at him, straight in the eye, without flinching.

“I meet clients.”

“Clients?”

She nodded.

“Yes, clients. Mostly men. Had it not rained, or had I not been stranded near that shop earlier this evening, I’d probably be making someone’s fantasies come true right now.”

Raktim froze, clearly caught off guard by the revelation and unsure how to respond. She, however, remained calm, breathing easily.

“Well, seems like you weren’t expecting this, were you?”

Raktim remained silent. Words failed him. Their eyes met, but he quickly looked away. She felt as if he wanted to leave.

“Why?” he finally asked after a moment.

“Why what?”

“I mean… why this… this line of work?”

She held his gaze for a moment before leaning back into the sofa.

“You seem uncomfortable. Are you?

“No…I…I am not,” he stuttered.

“No?”

“I said I am not worried,” he said, defensive now.

“Really?”

Raktim opened his mouth to respond, and then stopped. He wasn’t sure what to say.

“It’s just… I wasn’t expecting that,” he exhaled deeply and pushed back deep into his sofa, trying to ease down.

“Not your fault. Most people don’t.”

A brief silence followed.

“So?” she asked.

“So what?”

“You asked why. So tell me, why do you think I do this?”

Raktim heaved a deep sigh as his gaze wandered across the room.

“I don’t know. People usually… money… maybe circumstances. I really haven’t thought about it…”

“And what else could it be?”

“I don’t know. It’s my first time I am meeting an esc…,” he stopped mid-sentence. “It could be anything.”

“Is that all?”

“Umm… yeah, I guess. So… why did you choose this line of work?”

She smiled faintly and glanced at the wall clock near the dining table. It was well past midnight. She reached for her phone and checked the screen. Still no network.

She went to the bedroom and returned with a pack of cigarettes. Pulling one out, she lit it with slightly trembling fingers and drew deeply on it.

The ash fell onto the carpet. She didn’t bother brushing it away. The expensive carpet was the least of her concerns.

Neither of them spoke. Her eyes remained closed as she took another drag. The room felt strangely different now. The rain had stopped long ago. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked and then all was silent again. Her eyes remained closed as she took another drag.

“You know,” she said quietly, “I am generally not bothered by questions like that.”

“Or by people’s reactions. I have become used to them over the years,” a faint smile appeared on her lips. She opened her eyes and looked at the cigarette between her fingers.

“But you seem to be…” She stopped. The sentence remained unfinished.

She took one final drag, crushed the cigarette into the ashtray, and almost immediately pulled out another one.

Raktim watched her quietly.

The lighter clicked. A small flame flickered to life. Raktim looked at her but said nothing. She finished the cigarette, dropped the butt onto the floor, and immediately lit another, the third in a short span.

For a few moments, she simply sat and stared at the smoke.

“Well…” she finally said. “It’s a long story.”

Raktim was still silent, listening.

She smiled faintly. “A very long story.” Another drag.

“Like most of the children of my age, I also wanted to be a doctor and save lives.” The smile disappeared almost immediately.

“After my Class X board examinations, I joined coaching classes for the medical entrance tests. Things were going fine, until one day…” She looked away.

“One evening, I returned home from tuition and found my father drinking. It was nothing unusual. My father drank occasionally. But that day was different,” she paused.

Her gaze remained fixed somewhere beyond the room.

“He looked worried, tensed. I had just changed and come out of the bath when he called me over. By then, he had already prepared tea and snacks for me. I sat beside him and ate. After that…” She paused.

Raktim remained silent.

“When I woke up, my head was pounding, and every part of my body hurt.”

She took a drag from the cigarette.

“A man was lying beside me. Neither of us had any clothes on.”

For a moment, she stared at the smoke drifting towards the ceiling.

“It didn’t take me long to understand what had happened.”

Her voice remained calm, almost detached.

“I cried. I screamed at him. He woke up, looked at me, and smiled.”

She paused again.

“Then he did it again. I kept crying. I kept telling him to stop. He didn’t,” another drag.

She lowered her eyes.

“By the time he left, I felt… nothing. Not anger. Not fear. Nothing. I don’t even remember when he left.” A bitter smile crossed her face.

She was silent. She finished her cigarette and lit a fourth one. This time, Raktim joined in too.

He did not say a word. He simply sat there smoking, his thoughts drifting in a hundred different directions.

“Long after the man left,” she spoke again, “My father entered the room. I still remember the look on his face. He stood at the doorway and couldn’t even look me in the eye. He knew. Of course, he knew. ‘I am sorry,’ he said. ‘I had no other choice.’ I don’t remember everything he said after that. I don’t think I was listening. Something about a mistake. Something about money. Something about fixing things before they get worse. I only remember sitting there and staring at him. The strange thing is, I wasn’t crying anymore. I think I had already cried myself empty by then. I wanted to scream at him. I wanted to ask him how he could do something like that to his own daughter. But the words wouldn’t come out. So I just sat there. For hours. On the same bed. In the same room. Staring at the wall.”

“It was the beginning, as it happened again the next day. And the day after that. How long it continued, I can’t recall. The days eventually blurred into one another. Man after man. Rounds after rounds. It just… continued,” she said quietly.

For the first time, she looked vulnerable. Broken. Shaken.

“My tuition stopped. I stopped stepping out of my room. Every day, he came to my room with food. Every day, he cried. He begged me to forgive him and spoke about his helplessness. Whenever he cried, I simply stared at him. Expressionless. It didn’t matter anymore. For me, he was no longer my father. He was just another man.”

She paused.

“In fact, one day, when he came to give me food, I threw myself at him. I was out of my mind. I tried kissing him. I grabbed his hands and placed them on my chest. He pushed me away and ran out of the room. I wanted to die. But I didn’t have the courage to kill myself.”

Raktim remained silent.

“One morning, I don’t remember how long afterwards, I woke up to a commotion outside my room. Voices. People moving around. Someone crying. I pushed the door and stepped outside. The house was full of people. Neighbours. Family friends. A few distant relatives. Some were crying. Some were whispering among themselves. Nobody looked at me directly. There was a police team too. I did not understand what was happening there. I was yet to come to terms with the things when one of the aunties came up to me and hugged me. She started crying. That was when I realised something was wrong.”

She exhaled.

“My father was dead.  He had killed himself the previous night. The police found a note. It had only three words written on it- I am sorry.”

She reached for the cigarette packet and lit her eighth cigarette.

“And then I saw them again—the same men who had slept with me. When my father’s body was being taken away in the ambulance, they were there, standing among the crowd. I recognised every one of them. They came to me, spoke softly, and told me not to be afraid. One of them placed a hand on my head and said that if I ever needed anything, they would be there for me. At that time, I didn’t know what to think. I hated them. I hated my father. I hated myself.”

She took a long drag from her cigarette before continuing.

“Dad’s death filled the house with friends and relatives. Several rituals followed. I was forced to perform them, and I did, reluctantly. Once the rituals were over, the relatives gradually began to leave, one by one, and I was left alone. But those men didn’t disappear. They kept coming, but no one demanded anything. They did not come alone; they came with their wives and families. They helped me with the paperwork, the bank accounts, and the property documents- things I knew nothing about. Whenever I needed help, one of them would show up.”

She exhaled slowly and looked away.

“For a while, I genuinely believed the worst was over. I thought I would somehow put my life back together and start again. I thought that chapter of my life was finally behind me. But I was wrong. One evening, it started again. I had no one to run to. Gradually, it became a part of my life. New men started coming- sometimes old, sometimes young. After every session, they handed me an envelope full of money. I was exhausted. Everything inside me felt dead already. After a point, I stopped asking why it was happening. I simply accepted it.”

As she spoke, her eyes remained fixed on Raktim, who was staring back at her inquisitively. When she said, I had no one to run to, she noticed his gaze drift momentarily towards the VHS tapes and LP records on the shelf beside her.

She understood. A faint smile touched her lips.

“I lied. I bought them from a client. He was moving to another city, and these belonged to his estranged wife. Since he didn’t want to take them with him, he sold them to me. I lied because I didn’t feel like telling you the truth at the time. My mother died when I was six years old. I am the only child of my parents.”

Raktim did not say anything immediately. His throat suddenly felt dry. He rose from the sofa and walked to the refrigerator. Inside the fridge, there was a bottle of Scotch. He took it out, poured himself a peg, and gulped it down in one go before returning to his seat. He remained silent.

“Do you know what the irony of life is?” she asked, lighting her ninth cigarette.

“What?”

“The more you run away from darkness, the more it follows you and tightens its grip around your throat. I left the city. I left the people. I came to a new city. I took on a new identity, a new name, but the darkness followed me. Men seem to want the same thing everywhere. It was then that I finally decided to stop running, stop fighting, and use my body to my advantage instead of letting others use it against me. And since then, I have been happy. No remorse. No guilt. No sadness. Nothing. I am not justifying anything; I am merely stating facts.”

No one spoke. Silence settled between them once again, heavier than before, determined to consume them both.

“You never felt like leaving?” he finally asked, breaking the silence.

She looked at him for a moment longer than usual. She did not blink.

“Didn’t I try? I changed my identity. What else should I have done? If this is what men want, then so be it. And I have not forced anyone. As I said, I have no guilt or shame about what I do. And if I am socially and morally wrong, then so are the men who come to me. Why should I take responsibility for making the world a better place? I am repeating myself- I am not justifying anything. I am merely stating facts.”

“Hmmm.”

“God… I am going to make myself a peg. Do you want another?” She stood up from the sofa and looked at Raktim.

“A small one. Neat.”

She went to her bedroom and returned with a fresh, sealed bottle of Scotch and a new packet of cigarettes. She placed two whisky glasses on the centre table and poured two pegs, a 30 ml one for him and a 60 ml one for herself.

“Here, take it.”

He took the glass and sipped cautiously. By then, she had already gulped down her entire drink and poured herself another peg. She downed that one too and poured a third. Before she could drink it, Raktim stood up and stopped her.

He held her by the arms, took the glass from her hand and placed it on the table.

“Stop,” he said.

The word came out hoarse. For a long moment, neither moved. Their faces were close enough that he could smell the faint mix of whisky and cigarette smoke. Her eyes, usually sharp and guarded, were now raw, unguarded and vulnerable.

His grip tightened. Hers did too. Their breath mingled. Her lips parted slightly. Raktim leaned in.

Suddenly, Raktim’s phone shattered the silence, loud, insistent, and brutal. The shrill sound snapped them back to reality.

He immediately rushed to answer it. It was Monaliza.

“Where are you? Are you okay? Thank God the network is back. Did you eat anything?” she asked, followed by a barrage of questions.

“I am fine. Yeah, I’ll leave now. So the water has receded in Chandmari and Zoo Road? Umm… I’ll call you once I get home. Bye. Love you.”

He disconnected the call and looked at her.

She was sitting upright on the sofa, looking at him with a faint smile on her lips.

He neither moved nor stood steadily.

A moment later, she got up, walked towards him and hugged him tightly. He did not respond. He stood stiffly as she wrapped her arms around him. After a minute or so, she let go.

He looked at her again.

“The network is back, and I think I should leave now. It’s almost morning. Monaliza will be waiting for my call,” he said flatly.

“Umm… yeah. It is getting late.”

Raktim walked to the washbasin near the dining table, splashed cold water on his face, wiped it with the nearby towel, straightened the creases in his shirt, and returned to the sofa. He picked up his phone and made sure he hadn’t left anything behind.

He looked at her once again.

“Bye,” he said with a faint smile.

“Bye,” she replied.

The moment he turned the doorknob, she called out.

“Hey, wait. We’ve been talking all evening, almost until morning, and yet we don’t know each other’s names.”

He stopped and turned around.

“I am Raktim.”

“Nice name. I am Lobhita,” she said with a soft smile.

He smiled back.

The door closed behind him, and she listened to his footsteps fading down the stairs.

She slowly walked back to the sofa, picked up her glass, lit a cigarette and stepped out onto the balcony.

The first rays of the sun were beginning to appear on the horizon. The air was still cool. Some traces of the previous night’s rain lingered in the breeze.

Lobhita was the name of the film that Raktim and Monaliza were supposed to watch that day. It was about a man and a woman who met by accident after being stranded on a flooded street and were forced to spend the night together. Throughout the night, they shared stories, secrets, regrets, and wounds they had never spoken of before. By the time the film ended, neither of them remained the same.

CLICK HERE TO READ PART 1 | Lobhita: The Flood

CLICK HERE TO READ PART 2 | Lobhita: The Night