Midnight Ice-cream

Not my best piece but I think I’ll post it anyway.

”Shiiiiine on… you crrrrazy diamond…”

I sang along with the MP3 player plugged into my ears. It was just aswell that it was midnight and hardly anyone within earshot was awake to listen to my hoarse, off key croaking. Not that I would have cared. Lazing around on the balcony, admiring the view, I was content. Down below on the road, two ice-cream vendors stood side by side. The fluorescent glow of the tubelights on their carts was the only illumination on the road. Like two shining beacons of light in the middle of a sea of darkness. The street lights were perenially out of order. I thought it strange that anyone should be selling ice-cream, of all things, in the middle fo the night. Who buys ice cream at midnight? I could’t recall seeing them there before. But it is entirely possible that I overlooked them on earlier occasions. Left with nothing else to do, I observed them for a while. I couldn’t see much due to the distance but trying to guess their conversation was an interesting way to pass the time.I wondered, were they friends? Did they get along well? Or did they treat each other with animosity, seeing as both of them worked for rival brands? I couldn’t imagine any two people being standing on the same place, night after night with no one else for company, being cold to each other. It seemed torturous to me.

A sudden desire to have ice-cream caught hold of me. It was absurd but my will power is a joke. I sneaked out of the house and climbed down the stairs. I avoid lifts, they make me claustrophobic. The lobby of the apartment building was empty save the liftman perched upon his stool, sleeping soundly. Somewhere, a dog howled. And then another. Then a third dog joined in. Then a fourth howl, this one much closer than the others. It woke up the lift man. He rubbed his face hurriedly, a sheepish look passed over his features when he saw me. He wasn’t supposed to sleep during the shift. The gate guard looked at me curiously as I walked out. It was not a particularly hot night, by April standards anyway. But it seemed hotter than it was because of the utter stillness of the air. It hung heavily, warm and stuffy. Trees rose up around me. Their silhouettes conjured up images of demons standing with their arms wide apart, just waiting to swoop down and consume you. The place where the vendors stood was a few minutes’ walk from the gate and I started to feel a little edgy as I walked all alone, everything around me shrouded by darkness. I was somewhat disappointed by the reaction of the vendors to my appearance. There was none. Somewhere in my mind, I had expected them to light up at the sight of a customer.

“One chocobar.” I said to one of them. The man was tall and lean. His adam’s apple protruded out like a steep mountain. His face was disproportionately wide, with beady eyes and bushy, dark eyebrows. The moustache adorning his face was long overdue for a trimming. The man opened the metal lid on the top of the cart and began digging into it, unearthing carton after carton of ice-creams. Finally he emerged from the depths of the storage, one hand triumphantly holding a chocobar packet. Money and ice-cream changed hands swiftly and I quickly tore the packet open and took a bite. It was much too cold but the chocolate coating mixed with the vanilla ice-cream inside, mellowing it and adding a bittersweet twist to the whole deal. It was perfect. Dwarfed everything I’d eaten before.

“Do you stand here every night?” I asked the man.

He nodded. “Every night.”

“Till when?” I continued.

“Around dawn.”

“Don’t you get bored? Do you get many customers?”

“Very few customers.” he replied. “But what can I do? The people high-up decide everything, people like me have no say in it.”
He seemed a bit hesitant. I suppose most people are when conversing with strangers at 1 in the morning.

I glanced at the other vendor. Somehow he seemed uneasy, impatient. It was almost as if he wanted me gone. Or maybe he was angry at having lost a customer. I licked the last of the ice-cream off the stick and threw it aside. My tastebuds satisfied, I went back home.

Back on the balcony, I could still see them. A third man joined them soon. And then a fourth. More customers, I guessed. Suddenly the lights on both carts went out. I could barely make out their shadowy forms now. One of the carts began moving sometime later, pushed by the vendor. The other cart, the one I had bought the ice cream from, stood where it was. The other two men seemed gone too. I stifled a yawn and ambled off to bed.

* * * * * *

It was all over the news the next day.

Ice-cream vendor brutally murdered and stuffed into his own cart. Body found miles away from his usual place of business.

I saw a picture of the victim. Death does strange things to one’s appearance. Beady, sunken eyes stared back at me lifelessly, almost accusingly. The wide face had acquired a sickly pale shade. Death is ugly. Death is infinitely ugly. The disbelief that I felt transcends words. It took a while for sadness to make itself felt. Sadness, which I was surprised to discover. One does not feel such sadness for a stranger’s death. Not in this age. Man has been rendered immune to sorrow unless it hits close to home. But then, a chocobar connected the two of us.

Currently listening to: U2 – The Electric Co.