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THE LAST KISS

SCENE 8 — SWYAMPRABHA MEETS BODHISATWA AT HOTEL

CHARACTERS
  • SWAYAMPRABHA
  • BODHISATWA
SETTING

A business hotel room. Neutral décor. A small table with two chairs. Kettle, cups, tea sachets. On the table: conference badge, show brochure, a paper map of Kolkata with a few places circled. Evening light through curtains.

SFX: muted city horns, corridor footsteps, distant elevator chime.

(Lights up. BODHISATWA stands by the table, jacket off, sleeves rolled, arranging papers neatly—an artist’s order disguised as professionalism. A knock.)

BODHISATWA

Come in—door is open.

(SWYAMPRABHA enters. She pauses at the threshold: a familiar face in an unfamiliar room. Hand tightens around her handbag strap. She is dressed a little nicer than necessary.)

SWAYAMPRABHA

Hi.

BODHISATWA (soft smile)

SWAYAMPRABHA.

(They look. Thirty years doesn’t speak; it stares.)

BODHISATWA

Thank you for coming.

SWAYAMPRABHA

When did you reach Kolkata?

BODHISATWA

Last night.

BODHISATWA (gestures to the chair—careful, gentlemanly.)

Sit. Tea?

SWAYAMPRABHA

Yes, tea.

(BODHISATWA moves to the kettle. He doesn’t rush. He doesn’t perform. That calmness makes the room more intimate. SWYAMPRABHA watches his hands—steady, practiced.)

BODHISATWA

Milk?

SWAYAMPRABHA

No. I like black.

BODHISATWA

Still the same.

SWAYAMPRABHA

Not in everything.

Are you staying here for the whole week?

BODHISATWA

Yes. Conference, workshop, and the show.

They gave me a schedule like I’m a schoolboy again.

(He pours tea, places her cup first, sits opposite—distance maintained. SWYAMPRABHA notices. Part of her is relieved. A bigger part… disappointed.)

SWAYAMPRABHA

You didn’t ping me yesterday.

I called a few times, but it wasn’t going through.

BODHISATWA

I kept thinking—

will you come today?

SWAYAMPRABHA

I almost didn’t.

BODHISATWA

Why?

SWYAMPRABHA (moves, looks around, through the window)

This looks like trouble.

BODHISATWA (doesn’t pretend otherwise)

Yes. It does. I didn’t choose the room.

But I choose what I do inside it.

SWAYAMPRABHA

And what will you do?

(He shifts a chair; their fingers nearly meet. He withdraws.)

BODHISATWA (meets her eyes)

See you.

Listen to you.

SWAYAMPRABHA

My life is service.

I get up, serve the house… the family… and go to sleep.

Then wake up and do the same.

BODHISATWA

Your life is you.

Service is what you do—not who you are.

SWYAMPRABHA (sips tea. Eyes stay on him. Fingers tighten around the cup.)

Tell me honestly—

why did you want to meet me here?

(Electric silence. He holds her gaze, answers without defense.)

BODHISATWA

Because it’s neutral. Peace. Privacy.

Is it causing trouble?

SWAYAMPRABHA

Trouble was already there.

Your presence just… showed it.

BODHISATWA

The art show is tomorrow evening.

I wanted you to see — what I’ve been doing.

SWAYAMPRABHA

I will come.

BODHISATWA

Thank you.

SWAYAMPRABHA

BODHISATWA…

why did you say that line?

BODHISATWA (pure innocence)

When you came back…

I felt fifteen again—for one minute.

And then I felt ashamed.

SWAYAMPRABHA

Ashamed?

BODHISATWA

Yes.

Because I was remembering something beautiful

while sitting inside a life I built with someone else.

SWAYAMPRABHA

Then why are we here—in a hotel room?

BODHISATWA

I wanted to see you.

Not to take you.

SWAYAMPRABHA

You think I came here to be taken?

BODHISATWA

No.

But I didn’t want you to feel… trapped.

SWAYAMPRABHA

I’m trapped every day.

Schedules. Belts. Lunchboxes. Being “good.”

SWYAMPRABHA (looks around again. Voice lowers. contd.)

This room is not trapping me.

This room is… freedom.

BODHISATWA

SWAYAMPRABHA…

SWAYAMPRABHA

Do you know what you did?

You created a want inside me that has nowhere to go.

BODHISATWA

I realized that later.

SWAYAMPRABHA

You’ll go back to Atlanta, and I’ll go back to my kitchen.

BODHISATWA

Yes.

SWAYAMPRABHA

So you called me here—

to give me tea and philosophy?

BODHISATWA

No.

To tell you that you were real.

Those days were not your imagination alone.

SWYAMPRABHA (turns from the window. in soft, shaken)

I carried it like a secret disease.

(A long beat. Her breathing is audible. She steps toward him—one step, then another—stops at the table. Ready for intimacy; it shows in her stillness.)

SWAYAMPRABHA

If I asked you…

to hold me for one minute…

would you?

BODHISATWA (loses his eyes briefly. It costs him. He opens—gentle, firm.)

No.

(SWYAMPRABHA flinches—not humiliation—something sharper, hotter.)

BODHISATWA

Not because I don’t want to.

Because I do.

And that is exactly why I won’t.

SWAYAMPRABHA (eyes fill—not tears. Heat. She nods, absorbing the paradox.)

You think real things sit quietly?

You think feelings behave because you speak politely?

SWAYAMPRABHA (stands—restless—goes to the window, speaks without turning.)

I came here thinking—

I don’t know what I thought.

BODHISATWA

What did you expect?

SWAYAMPRABHA (turns. Their eyes lock. She doesn’t lie.)

I came here so I could blame you.

BODHISATWA

I don’t want your guilt.

You already carried too much.

SWAYAMPRABHA

I should go now.

BODHISATWA

Can I walk you to the lobby?

SWAYAMPRABHA

No.

BODHISATWA

Okay.

(SWYAMPRABHA picks up her handbag. At the door she pauses—looks back once. BODHISATWA stands still, hands by his sides—no reach, no touch.)

SWAYAMPRABHA

Tomorrow… at the show.

BODHISATWA

Tomorrow.

(SWYAMPRABHA exits. Door closes.)

(Lights fade.)

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