Title: "Hindsight"
Author: monimala
Fandom: Hindi Movies/"Company"
Rating/Classification: AC, angst, slash, Chandu/Malik, language.
Disclaimer: "Company" belongs to Ram Gopal Varma and other people.
Summary: I think this is quite possibly the first Hindi movie slash ever written. Chandu and Malik are two mobsters, two close friends, split apart by betrayal...and all one of them has left is what might have been.
Notes: Ajay Devgan and Vivek Oberoi...? *Drool.*
*Click*. *Click*. *Click*.
Srinivasan's fading footsteps sound like a bullet locking into the chamber of a revolver.
How appropriate.
You wait till the sound completely dies away before you let go...before you slide from the thin metal bunk and your knees hit the concrete and the wail escapes your throat.
*Nahin.* *Nahin*. *Nahin.* No. No. No.
Your scream of denial probably wakes the other inmates, but you don't care...you just keep crying out...until all that's left are hitched sniffles and watery whispers of "motherfucker..." and "*why*?"
Because this, too, is appropriate.
***
One of the quiet nights in Hong Kong with just the four of you. Overdosed on drinks and cards and laughter. These were always your favorite evenings.
"*Arre*! You pigs!" Saroja admonished, the cigarette dangling from her fingers as she shook with laughter. "I am NOT taking my clothes off."
"Me neither!" Kanu agreed, blushing furiously, laying down her cards.
"*Kyu nahin*?" you wondered, playing wounded, "Why not? We're among friends. What's a little strip poker, na?"
You met Malik's dark gaze across the table...knew the quirking grin beneath the trim mustache matched your own...and he joined in, "Why so shy, Ladies? Chandu and I...we don't mind."
Saroja's eyes twinkled and she shared a secret look with Kanu...one that spoke of female solidarity. "Then YOU strip, Darling!"
Anyone else who suggested that Malik, the head of the Company, the most powerful Indian Mafia organization on three continents, take his clothes off would've probably wound up with a black eye. But Saroja had made the suggestions a thousand times in the darkness of their bedroom and had always gotten her way.
Not to be out done, Kanu added her own request. "*Haan*...yes...you, too, Chandu-ji," she said, biting the words out with red cheeks, only because she thought her husband wouldn't actually do it. Perhaps she didn't really know you all that well...
All it took was one glance. A secret look that spoke of *male* solidarity.
And you reached for the hem of your polo shirt and tugged upwards.
You whipped it off quickly, laughing at Kanu's traumatized screech...a sound that was infinitely different from her appreciative gasps beneath you in your bed.
Malik was far less impulsive...and he took his time...going button by button on his blue silk shirt as Kanu pleaded "*Bas!* Enough, Malik-da, enough!"
Saroja simply watched, fascinated, not trying to stop his calculated show, her eyes full of love and lust and appreciation. And a little challenge...because she thought her lover wouldn't actually do it. Perhaps she didn't really know him all that well...
And as the silk spilled away from his gleaming bronze skin, your own amusement quickly faded into...into something you didn't dare put name to. Shortness of breath, a tightness in your jeans, a fascination with the light whorls of black hair sprinkled across his muscled chest.
"There. Not so scary," he announced, staring not at the women but at you. As if he knew...as if he could see right into the sweaty-shifting place inside you. "We're naked."
"H-half naked," you corrected, swallowing convulsively as your mouth ran dry. "Only half."
His gaze moved down and then back up again. He took his time and the smile he'd worn for most of the night disappeared. Something replaced it. Something filled with suspicion, mistrust...or maybe...maybe something else. "Right," he agreed, softly, voice a deep growl. "Only half."
You never suggested strip poker again.
Of course...you also never got the chance.
***
You beat against the floor with your fists...until your knuckles are raw and red. You sob with the injustice of it.
You're so naive.
You'd really thought it was over. That you'd lost Kanu, lost everything, turned informant, learned the truth, and still managed to save one thing that mattered despite your mistakes.
You remember the last thing you told him on the phone...to not take it personally if any of his business was hit by your tips. *Kitna ajeeb baatein*. What stupid last words to offer your friend, your mentor...your owner...your *Malik*.
You didn't say "I'm sorry"...you didn't say "I love you, Man"...you didn't say...but that doesn't mean you didn't feel.
So much unnecessary death. So much one-upmanship based on lies. And you'd thought that going to prison would make it stop. That it would all finally be over and maybe Malik and Saroja would have the happily ever after that you were now denied.
You wonder if he took three bullets like you did.
You know he didn't have the accursed luck to survive them.
And, stupidly, you wonder if he thought of you in those last moments.
You wonder if he blamed you.
You wonder if he said your name.
And even if he didn't say...did he *feel*?
You'll never know. You'll simply speculate in fevered naked dreams.
No...not naked. Only half.
That is most appropriate of all.
--end--
June 22, 2002.