Coffee slaves

 It was just another snowy day in Moscow. Ruhana walked the slippery road with utmost caution. Her knee-length skirt fluttered in the occasional gusts of wind. The sky at 8am was still drowsy and leaning on her like Master Maxim's sleepy neck. Now the fairies of dreamland would still be circling him, she thought. If not taken for customary 7am loo visit, he must have wetted the bedding. But that was none of her concerns today. Especially when she had been granted this week off after six laborious months. Tomorrow the vast white bedsheet would have to be scrubbed till her bones poked out through her knuckles. But for now, Ruhana had to make the best of her holiday. 

Activating her GPS, she took a turn in a dingy lane. Her heels tic-tacing into the dark alley, overshadowed by steep buildings on both sides. She pressed her bag to her chest, clutched tightly in both hands. That was the only way she knew to alliveate her fears. Ammi had taught her, inanimates placate your anxiety more than flesh and blood could. After all, this purse was one of the last remains of Ammi's polished lifestyle. Had the mother been alive, little Ruhana, now though a young lady, would never have been brought here in Moscow as a slave. The unrest in Syria, mother working as an undercover journalist and a family that had long abandoned the girl child, Ruhana had a childhood with fear her second name. 

Ammi's brutal murder, still etched in her mind like fresh inflicts of a dagger on lamb, of salt on wound. The blood yet not clotted, Ruhana was thrust into a truckful of children. Ammi's dead outstretched hand called out to her. Her wide, panicked eyes blazed in anger, threatening to kill the offenders. Alas!! But she was dead. Ruhana's only regret was she couldn't put her mother to rest. Shut her blue eyes, till another dawn again beckoned them.

Ruhana was not a chip off the old block. Timid and fearful, even the drop of a pin could scare her. Long hair though now chopped off by her mistress, was Ammi's gift to her. The limpid complexion and apple red lips, she was a mirror image of her mother. How she wished Ammi had bestowed the blue eyes upon her! 

Nevertheless, today she couldn't go weak thinking of Ammi. The off was to be utilized in a better way. Juggling many strays and few addicts, on the street, Ruhana finally reached the cafeteria. The open sign was not yet hung. A lady was sweeping the floor while a man scrubbed window panes. The neon lights on the board above too were dim, indicating business hadn't begun yet. Maybe she should just probe politely. Maybe they would hand her an early coffee.

"How may I help you, mam?" The lady sweeping the floor recognized Ruhana's eagerness to enter the cafeteria. 

"Please come in." Amicably, Ruhana was ushered in the small Cafe with not more than five tables with complimentary chairs to it. A huge painting, of a warrior on the horse, in modest colors caught her attention. Making herself comfortable on one of the vacant tables, she flipped through the menu card.

In a few minutes, "May I help you with the order?" The lady, also the waitress, brought out a pen from her taut bun and notepad from the pocket of her pinafore, to scribble Ruhana's order.

"Cold coffee with brown hot sugar."

"We don't have anything like that on the menu." The waitress smiled back.

"I know it's your specialty." Ruhana handed over a piece of paper and photograph to the patient lady. She continued, "See my friend has had it last month here."

The lady winked, "Oh, the recommendations just don't stop. I will get the right thing for you."

As the lady's back retreated, for a moment Ruhana heaved a deep sigh.

*  *  *  *  *

"Ruhana, you whore! Why is the bread not baked properly? And look at the stains in the sink? Holy-Moly, this girl has left the milk carton open! She needs to be handled now properly!" With that, Ruhana's mistress dragged her out of the bathroom where she was immersed in loads of dirty laundry. 

SLAP. A thunderous slap hit Ruhana's pink cheeks turning them red. Clutching her ponytail, the mistress swirled the girl in innumerable circles and finally banged her on the wall. Dizzy, Ruhana slumped against the pillar, collapsing to the ground. 

"Get up you hooker!" Her master kicked her in the osteoporotic ribs. 

CRACK!! Did a rib break? Let it pierce the thumping heart and end my agony forever. But she knew death was a blessing not endowed on many when asked.

The last week off had done nothing fruitful for her. Nothing worked in her favor. No amount of sweet caffeine could uplift her condition. In that state, she too slapped herself for believing that a holiday could change her life.

The noise of stomping feet suggested her tormentors had left. Zigzag lines faltered her vision. The rustic odor of blood evaded her senses. Her nose was bleeding but the body numb. This was still better than the atrocities of dark, when her master forced himself on her for filthy pleasures but didn't leave before battering her, for she according to him, was the cause of his sins. The cuts on her vagina and the burns on her breast, spoke of how fiercely the beast was. Nothing hurt her anymore. The hammering pains when the iron is hot. She was cold like the harsh weather outside.

"Ruhi," he gently caressed her freckled face. Ahaa...the touch of heavens, her Little master Maxim had come. Her only solace in this hostile land. Her moment of blissful happiness at vortex of turmoils. 

* * * * * *

The cafeteria was bustling with people.

"Cold coffee with brown hot sugar." She again placed her order. This time though confidently and proudly.

"We have a huge queue, Madame. Now we cannot take this order. Check for something on the menu card." The lady replied in an irritated tone.

"Please lady, let me have my coffee. The last dose didn't seem to work. Today, I need the parcel desperately." Ruhana pleaded. It came naturally to her.

One stern look at her, the lady left the Cafe through a back door. 

Today, wasn't her holiday. But Ruhana had escaped the torture on pretext of seeing a doctor. She very well knew, the Master couldn't afford her faked pregnancy. 

She was again at the Cafe with renewed hopes. After all, her well wisher, though a family physician of her Master,  couldn't be totally wrong. A brawny man with beating heart had found her attractive, attractive beyond her skin and body. Whatever it was he had crammed a piece of paper in her pale, lifeless palms. For days, she mulled over walking to the address. One day, some neuron fired somewhere, and she had left.

* * * * * *

The ambulance carried the dead bodies in absolute calm. Cardiac arrest, the brawny physician had scribbled on a piece of paper. Maxim cried bitterly hugging Ruhana. Like her, she wouldn't let him run amok on the snowy streets. She would be the mother and father, he had just lost. After the formalities of burial, she had to visit the cafeteria. Just a plain coffee, was all she needed. Also her previous bills had to be paid, for the parcel had done its job.

The trial didn't end here. She had to pass on the scribbled crumpled piece of paper to someone in need. But before she could do so, for one last time she read the name, COFFEE SLAVES. 

A cafeteria that had gained popularity because of its killer coffees and smoothies. Many rushed to indulge in the obnoxious stimuli of its name. Very few, maybe two or three, mustered their courage to walk up to the Cafe for Cold Coffee with Brown Hot Sugar! Pure arsenic, they sold under this name for the slaves transported from Syria.

At the Cafe, through the back door, she met the  brawny physician who was busy testing his medicines to parcel. The waitress put the concoctions in paper bags labeled Coffee Slaves. As she saw him working, she felt Ammi's blue eyes gazing over her. This was the chance for Ruhana to prove, she was nursed on a tigress's milk. Here on, she would be a waitress at Coffee Slaves in daylight but an undercover agent when people winked and ordered the Cold coffee with brown hot sugar.

The sugar slowly disappearing in the coffee while Ruhana standing distinctly for a cause.