The Tattoo : Fiction

It was a wet afternoon in Mumbai and he was glad that finally he had found a place to call his own. He had found the job in the best tatoo parlour and they were really thrilled at their talented find. Finally he was progressing towards realizing his dream.
The building where he had moved in overlooked the sea and he had the flat on the sixth floor so the view from the balcony was breathtaking.He did not much like flats but there was no option.

As a tatoo artist he needed to do his creative work in peace, without any disturbance and the flat offered just that. He went to the window and looked out. The house next door was beautiful. It was a colonial house with a huge garden and shady trees. He had pleaded to the broker to get him the house but the man had vehemently refused for some reason. He loved to look at the house and wondered why no one stayed there. He could see the cobwebs and disheveled porch and garden and the swing.

The bell rang rather sharply.

“Who could have come at this time, in such weather?” he muttered irritatingly turning down the volume of the T.V.  He had been watching L.A.Ink.  Kat von de was his idol.

He did not know many people except for some clients at the parlour.

He opened the door.

There stood the most beautiful girl he had seen since he landed in the city. There was something in her deep blue eyes that held him captive for a few moments.

” yes? Can I help you ?”

She spoke in a voice that could melt any heart.

” Hi, you are a tattoo artist, right?”

” yes, I am”,  he said thinking someone from the parlor must have recommended him.

” I want to get a tattoo done right now. I don’t have much time.” She said in a velvety voice.

“Now, but I don’t do work from home, you can come to the parlour tomorrow?” She must be really desperate to venture in such weather he thought.

He was not interested but the temptation to spend some time with her was over powering.

“I don’t have much time, please ” she looked pleadingly at him.

” come on in”, he said still perplexed at this beautiful intrusion.

She sat very still as he worked on a multicolored angel on her arm.  Her skin was the color of ivory, soft and glowing. He felt his heartbeat quicken.

She remained silent throughout , gazing at the downpour and the roaring sea outside.

The silence was getting on to his nerves. He wanted to talk to her but did not utter a word.

After two hours of hard work  the tattoo was complete. The colors shone brightly on her smooth skin. She inspected the work with her deep intense eyes and smiled. Handing over the money he had quoted she walked out without a second glance.

He stared at her back till she vanished from his eyes. It seemed like a dream. He pinched himself and again looked at the money, his first earning since he came to Mumbai.

Closing the door his mind drifted again to the girl.

Unbelievable. He thought.

It was getting dark and there was no sign of the rain stopping. He boiled some eggs and made himself a huge mug of coffee.

Next few days were hectic and he hardly had time to relax but somehow his thoughts wandered to the mysterious girl who had visited her that day.

He asked at the parlour if they had sent someone but they had not.

He wondered who had told her about him.

One Sunday he finally got a day off and the Whole day he relaxed, shopped and did some work on his designs. In the evening he went to a pool party and  returned home late.

It was a cool night and the full moon was brilliantly shining in the sky.
He aimlessly wandered to the window and looked out. The house next door was bathed in moonlight. his eyes scanned the unkempt gardens. Something caught his attention. There was someone on the swing. He peered closely and his heart racing. She seemed familiar. It was strange, no one lived there. He checked his watch. It was around 2:30 AM.

Did he drink too much? He wondered. He just had a few drinks.
He brought the binoculars from the closet and adjusted them. His hands began to tremble as he focused on the girl and spotted the Angel tattoo on the ivory skinned bare arm. He removed the binoculars and looked again.

The swing was empty, slowly swaying in the still night.


4 thoughts on “The Tattoo : Fiction

  1. Pingback: The Tattoo : Fiction « Spinning a Yarn Of Life | Tattoo designs

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