Stark White Ends

He felt the breeze ruffle his hair lovingly, as the bike yawned lazily down the dark road. Unlike most people, for whom biking meant riding full throttle on an empty road, flying faster than the wind itself, leaving the world behind, for him, it was a slow ride along an empty road, taking in the scent of the wilderness, breathing the slow languid solitude, as the world moved past, slowly at its own pace. Nothing relaxed him more. On some nights he would go to the dark empty road on the outskirts of the city, just put the bike in the first gear, close his eyes, and let the bike take him wherever it wanted to go.
It was one such night.. He was lost in his version of nirvana, when he sensed a foreign aroma ripple through all the familiar odors of the night. He tried to place it..what was it that he smelt? A bud of passion in a swirl of loneliness coloured with a dash of the wild and the unfamiliarity of the city, an open invitation hiding an impenetrable wall, a feminine mystery.. his eyes opened, and he saw her walking down the pavement. The white salwar, unhurriedly kissing the quick paced heels... the kurta coloured with little drops of ruby red, that seemed to be shifting, forming a new pattern with each step... the long black braid, that went in a pendulum motion, that had something hypnotic about it, It took him a minute to force his eyes away and break its spell. But what took his breath away was the scarlet dupatta, which seemed to whirl around with a life of its own... the deepest red with the starkest white ends...
He pulled his bike ahead and stopped next to her. The heels stopped, and she turned a slow black gaze towards him raising her questioning eyes, with just that hint of suspicion in them. For a moment he didn't say a word, standing there dumbfound, staring at those impossibly red lips. It was when they moved to ask him his purpose that he finally snapped out, "Hey! This is kind of a lonely place,to be travelling alone, I would love to give you a ride back to the city". He sensed a hesitation in those vibrant eyes, and quickly turned a smile to put her at ease. "Are you sure, it won't be a inconvenient?", the lips asked slowly. "Not at all, I was going there anyway".
The bike started again, and he felt the dupatta on his back, almost caressing it. He could have sworn there was something almost wet and sticky about it.
He ignored it as the wind took over and the scents of the night returned to fill him.
The trees fell past, as if of its own violation, the bike got faster... the wind ceased to caress him, but crashed against him to break into a million pieces.
The grey ribbon ahead disappeared, as the red dupatta whipped out like the devil's tail, to wrap itself around him.
The ripple of his scream shattred the silent mirror of the wild, before it set itself back in one.
She walked on with the white salwar, unhurriedly kissing the quick paced heels... the kurta coloured with little drops of ruby red, that seemed to be shifting, forming a new pattern with each step... the long black braid, that went in a pendulum motion, that had something hypnotic about it, and the scarlet dupatta, which seemed to whirl around with a life of its own... the deepest red with the equally bloody ends...