It was quite dark. I looked at my expensive designer Swiss made wrist watch. I smiled and felt proud to own it. It was the only expensive thing that I owned apart from my huge collection of books.
It was already 9 PM and if I did not have the package in another 30 minutes - I would be dead by morning.
The railway platform was deserted and one could only see the mongrels rummaging for leftovers in the overflowing garbage cans and the hawkers in rush to close their shacks and rush home to the comforts of their wives and fluffy quilts. It was unusually cold for October night.
I digged into my bag and pulled out J. D. Salinger’s ‘Catcher In The Rye’ and pretended to read it. It was my favourite book; I had read it a hundred times… I adored Holden and his disdain for superficial and phony.
I had been to no better and phony a place then Pencey. Though Holden managed to escape it but I could not wriggle out even after repeating a couple of grades. I improved with time. My school seemed to love me and didn’t let me go – it stuck to me like a leech.
What I am today is not entirely to be blamed on my alma mater, even my parents need to share the blame for dragging me through the corridors of the best of best educational institutes.
I am a professional crime fighter. Don’t confuse me with the ‘men’ who have fancy prefixes and suffixes and bulging muscles, rather I have an ordinary name and almost no muscles to flaunt.
The government secret agency inducted me in their 22nd batch of the super stealth sleuth after umpteen tests and examinations. I was trained with a group of 25 youth; most of them didn’t survive the gruelling training and those who survived today brag about being the best in the profession. I am attached with the unit who has been chasing the gangs of poachers and smugglers since its inception on the suggestion of the fifth government of independent India.
“Sorry, I am late. I couldn’t get anybody to drop me here. I had to do a taxi… I hope I didn’t keep you waiting”, she interrupted my thoughts. She handed over the big packet to me. She looks as beautiful as ever. I wanted to kiss her on the cheeks but before I could say something she had disappeared.
The train was scheduled to arrive at 9:30 PM. I went back to reading the book on the cold bench. By 9:15 PM the hawkers had packed up and left and the few of the mongrels had huddled up and found a cozy corner. The train was to stop for 3 mins at the platform before it would speed to Junna. I had to look for my compartment; search for my seat and settle down in 3 minutes.
This was not my first travel by train but was my first to Junna. Junna was a sleepy town in the foot hills of Himalayas and its only claim to fame was Sh. Lal Chand, the sitting MP. A pot bellied middle agent seasoned politician who managed to snag an important position in the ministry. Had it not been for him I would have had to buy ticket till Tarapur and then look for a local transport to help me reach Junna. It’s an open secret that he threaten to defect to the opposition party in case his government was not read to connect Junna by rail to the rest of the country.
It’s not easy to travel in Indian trains. Firstly, the trains have no arrival and departure time; secondly one is not sure if he would sit on the seat he booked and reserved or would he just get to rest his half a moon on the Rexene seats and lastly one has to tie his belongings to oneself for obvious reasons. Now that I had the package in possession, I was assured I would be safe.
At 9:30 PM, I could hear the long whistle of the train signalling it was approaching the station. I picked up the bag and the packet. I shoved the book in the bag and secured it with a Velcro. The train came to halt after a lot of huffing and puffing. Not many were getting off… I rushed towards S7 bogey. I had seat 54 reserved for me. As I steeped on the footboard, I heard Vijay calling my name. I didn’t expect him to be there as he had been on a sick leave for a month – he kept his embarrassing illness secret from everyone but me.
In nick of time I pulled him in. He was out of breath. “Boss wanted me to join you. I have some important and classified papers in the bag for you”, I didn’t pay any attention to him and was annoyed as it was supposed to be a solo assignment. He knew that.
We made way towards seat 54. It was the side seat with a sleeper berth. I was travelling sleeper class as the unit only reimbursed for 2nd class. Vijay flashed his ID card and said something in the ear of the passenger on seat 53. He quietly picked up his cheap plastic suitcase and scurried. I didn’t see him after that and never asked Vijay what he whispered in the ears of the man.
“By five we should be their. We have a twin rooms booked in the rest house. I got some papers which you should look now… it would help plan the day”, Vijay tried to start a conversation. I was in no mood for chit chat. I had a long day and wanted to catch on my sleep. “You study them and make a list of things we need to do tomorrow, while a rest a bit”, I said and jumped on the upper berth.
It was awfully cold. I only had a sweater on... I was asked to rush to Junna while I was on my way back from Rampur. Rampur was comparatively warmer and pleasant. I phoned Kavita to meet me at the station. Kavita was my estranged girlfriend but was still kind to me and helped my once in a while.
Kavita was a journalist with the leading newspaper. I met her about a year ago when she had been chasing some facts on the poaching of the Tigers in the Kumaoo hills. I likely her exuberance and bully nature… she persisted and chased me all around for some sound bites. I could have avoided her but was attracted to her charm.
Our meeting frequency grew and we dated for about couple of months before she introduced me to her family. I made it a point to meet her and her parents when I was in town; my job involved a lot of travelling. We could have been married had it not been for my father who strictly opposed it citing economic divide and culture as the reason. My mother also sided him. My relations grew bitter with Kavita who felt insulted and we decided to move apart though I could never move on.
The jerky movement of the train and the cold seat made me squirm; I didn’t feel rested. I was using the package Kavita handed my as pillow. I pulled it from under my head and undid the thread that kept it together. There it was my tweed coat wrapped up nicely in a newspaper. I put it on.
“Damn, do u want to sleep all your life? We are at Janna. Come on wake up… hurry… I am hungry and cold… I need a warm cuppa tea…” Vijay appeared irritated and was talking to himself while he was arranging his stuff in the small bag he veritably carried on all his sojourns.
I jumped off the berth… picked up my bag and was out of the bogey much before Vijay. It was a cold morning. I walked to the nearest tea stall and asked for 2 cups of tea and some 'mathi'. I was on my 2nd 'mathi' when Vijay reached the stall. After dawdling for a while I paid the stallwala and walked out the station gate.
There was no transport in sight. It was too early. We were told the rest house is about two kilometres away. We could have either waited for the town to wake up or walk. We agreed to walk. We asked for directions and walked toward the rest house.
All along Vijay extolled about the virtues of walking in the morning. I nodded just to keep him talking with an occasional remark or two.
Junna was much better than I had imagined… It had the pukka roads and dustbins along the road to prevent littering and not to mention the 'Sauchalaya' which would put the Delhi administration to shame. Sh. Lal Chand peeked from here and there with the big broad grin to greet you in his constituency.
“There it is”, I shouted. I was glad to see the rest house. I was tired and hungry and not to mention sleepy. Had Kavita not given the packed to me I would had been dead. I missed her.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Monday, September 28, 2009
THE LION
“I want to drive a big truck, just like Jugga”, I chimed to my friend Kutu.
Each day we used to spend hours on the highway which divided the village in uneven halves watching the lorry and trucks on their way to some place called Mandi. I had heard father talk about Mandi in reverence. It was some kind of a place where the farmers carried their produce and haggled with the brokers and dealers for a fair price.
Jagga was the tallest and the strongest of all the village youths. He was very popular with us kids. He used to get us candies from the town and regale us with his adventure stories which we all lapped up with awe and great admiration. He owned and drove this big truck which could be heard about a mile away. Occasionally, he would drive us around the village; I so used to wait for these rides. He was my hero.
On that fateful day, Jugga started early to pick wheat from the nearby village and dump it in the Mandi before the sun was up. Jugga never reached Mandi.
It is said that he got into an argument with another trucker over jumping the queue. They pounced on each other. The trucker couldn’t match Jugga’s strength and got a good thrashing. It didn’t end there… when Jugga turned around to get into his truck; the trucker stabbed him in the back repeatedly until Jugga was on the ground in pool of blood. The trucker is still at large.
The day Jugga died the entire village was enveloped in gloom. We lost our hero. It has been about a year since Jagga passed away but he is still remembered. His tales of adventure and bravely have been retold a thousand time.
On one such idle day while we gaped at the passing traffic a truck screeched to halt near us. The burly driver and the cleaner got off the truck. It was a rare site to see a truck stop on this busy highway. We rushed to side of the truck and watched them inspect the truck.
“Did you know Jugga”, I proudly asked the burly driver who was under the truck. “Who”, he shouted. “Jugga the lion”, I said. “Oh yes! I did. I was the one who carried him to the hospital. He caught his leg in the truck door and fell on his head. By the time we reached the hospital he had passed on”.
We looked at each other and quietly walked back home.
Each day we used to spend hours on the highway which divided the village in uneven halves watching the lorry and trucks on their way to some place called Mandi. I had heard father talk about Mandi in reverence. It was some kind of a place where the farmers carried their produce and haggled with the brokers and dealers for a fair price.
Jagga was the tallest and the strongest of all the village youths. He was very popular with us kids. He used to get us candies from the town and regale us with his adventure stories which we all lapped up with awe and great admiration. He owned and drove this big truck which could be heard about a mile away. Occasionally, he would drive us around the village; I so used to wait for these rides. He was my hero.
On that fateful day, Jugga started early to pick wheat from the nearby village and dump it in the Mandi before the sun was up. Jugga never reached Mandi.
It is said that he got into an argument with another trucker over jumping the queue. They pounced on each other. The trucker couldn’t match Jugga’s strength and got a good thrashing. It didn’t end there… when Jugga turned around to get into his truck; the trucker stabbed him in the back repeatedly until Jugga was on the ground in pool of blood. The trucker is still at large.
The day Jugga died the entire village was enveloped in gloom. We lost our hero. It has been about a year since Jagga passed away but he is still remembered. His tales of adventure and bravely have been retold a thousand time.
On one such idle day while we gaped at the passing traffic a truck screeched to halt near us. The burly driver and the cleaner got off the truck. It was a rare site to see a truck stop on this busy highway. We rushed to side of the truck and watched them inspect the truck.
“Did you know Jugga”, I proudly asked the burly driver who was under the truck. “Who”, he shouted. “Jugga the lion”, I said. “Oh yes! I did. I was the one who carried him to the hospital. He caught his leg in the truck door and fell on his head. By the time we reached the hospital he had passed on”.
We looked at each other and quietly walked back home.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
THE BOOK
It smelled musty and had layers and bundles of papers. On close inspection they appeared to be stories/poems/novels etc. My first thought was to junk the box but something stopped me. I spend the next couple of nights sorting and arranging the papers. They were in longhand and pretty neat.
Just for lark, I mailed one of the stories to the editor of the local weekly. I had him knocking on my door the very next day. He profusely praised the the story and compared the writing to the best in literary world. I had hit the 'JACK POT'. I never looked back and used the books and stories judiciously over the next 20 years.
Today, I have everything but no more book in the box.
Just for lark, I mailed one of the stories to the editor of the local weekly. I had him knocking on my door the very next day. He profusely praised the the story and compared the writing to the best in literary world. I had hit the 'JACK POT'. I never looked back and used the books and stories judiciously over the next 20 years.
Today, I have everything but no more book in the box.
THE LOCK
Mr. Brown was not the usual one - he walked with a limp and had layers and layers of clothes. He carried 2 identical boxes with him. I nearly sprained by back when I lifted them. I dragged both of the beat up boxes to room 222 on the 2nd floor facing the river. I wasn’t expecting him to tip… I was taken aback when he shoved a bill of 10 in my hand; I wished him good stay.
He stayed in the hotel for a week and made my run around a lot and never tipped me. He fondly started calling me 'BOY' and waved at me each time he left and entered the hotel. I was assigned to help Mr. Brown check out of the hotel. The 2 fat boxes gave me the chill. I dragged them to the elevator and followed him. He didn’t look his usual self that day.
While waiting for the taxi on the porch Mr. Brown whispered something in my ear. I couldn’t get it as he used to lisp. Before getting into the taxi he asked my to only put 1 box in the boot and keep the other one. He called the captain and told him that I was to keep his box and he would personally pick it up in a couple of months. I gave him my address.
It had a big fat lock on it. I used the box as a makeshift coffee table. I decorated it with a sequined table cloth and a small vase. KP stumbled over it a couple of times and cursed me for putting it the middle of the room.
I was expecting Mr. Brown to show up any day for his box. It had become a part of the room and our lives. Couple of years passed… KP moved to another city and I to a decent tenement and was no longer an apprentice. I had given up hope of Mr. Brown returning to collect the box. I no longer required it. So, one day I broke the lock open.
He stayed in the hotel for a week and made my run around a lot and never tipped me. He fondly started calling me 'BOY' and waved at me each time he left and entered the hotel. I was assigned to help Mr. Brown check out of the hotel. The 2 fat boxes gave me the chill. I dragged them to the elevator and followed him. He didn’t look his usual self that day.
While waiting for the taxi on the porch Mr. Brown whispered something in my ear. I couldn’t get it as he used to lisp. Before getting into the taxi he asked my to only put 1 box in the boot and keep the other one. He called the captain and told him that I was to keep his box and he would personally pick it up in a couple of months. I gave him my address.
It had a big fat lock on it. I used the box as a makeshift coffee table. I decorated it with a sequined table cloth and a small vase. KP stumbled over it a couple of times and cursed me for putting it the middle of the room.
I was expecting Mr. Brown to show up any day for his box. It had become a part of the room and our lives. Couple of years passed… KP moved to another city and I to a decent tenement and was no longer an apprentice. I had given up hope of Mr. Brown returning to collect the box. I no longer required it. So, one day I broke the lock open.
OLD GRUMPY MAN
I skipped college and hung with a gang of hoodlums and felt cool. Each gang member was ambitious and wanted to control the streets on that block. I lost interest when the gang members starting becoming less ambitious and were getting married. I drifted away.
By that time I was kicked out of the house and was sharing a cramped room with this skinny boy. He was a nice guy with good habits. He used to introduce himself as KP. I never asked what his name was; I met KP in a cafe where he overheard me talking that I was looking for a cheap place to stay for a couple of months. He walked over and offered to take me in as a room mate and split the rent. I agreed without a thought; it was one of the good decisions I had taken so far in my short life.
KP worked at a plush 5 star hotel. He was in accounts or something. After I ran out of money he fixed a job of apprentice for me in the hotel. I had to help the guests with their luggage and run errands for them - BELLHOP. My easy job was made difficult by my title "the apprentice". The oddest and the dirtiest of the job were shoved at me by the other bellhops. I was never allowed to help any of the fat tippers and only got to lug the stuff of the stingiest and the cheapskates.
The days slipped fast. I got busy with each passing day running errands for friendly, rude, curt, threatening, demanding, polite... guests. It was winter before I could ask myself to take a break. I had saved a bit by that time and KP had staring showing some signs of good health. Then one cold evening an old grumpy man checked in.
By that time I was kicked out of the house and was sharing a cramped room with this skinny boy. He was a nice guy with good habits. He used to introduce himself as KP. I never asked what his name was; I met KP in a cafe where he overheard me talking that I was looking for a cheap place to stay for a couple of months. He walked over and offered to take me in as a room mate and split the rent. I agreed without a thought; it was one of the good decisions I had taken so far in my short life.
KP worked at a plush 5 star hotel. He was in accounts or something. After I ran out of money he fixed a job of apprentice for me in the hotel. I had to help the guests with their luggage and run errands for them - BELLHOP. My easy job was made difficult by my title "the apprentice". The oddest and the dirtiest of the job were shoved at me by the other bellhops. I was never allowed to help any of the fat tippers and only got to lug the stuff of the stingiest and the cheapskates.
The days slipped fast. I got busy with each passing day running errands for friendly, rude, curt, threatening, demanding, polite... guests. It was winter before I could ask myself to take a break. I had saved a bit by that time and KP had staring showing some signs of good health. Then one cold evening an old grumpy man checked in.
THE LETTER
I have everything today. I am the most read writer of the last two decades. I have presidents and prime ministers for friends. I only stay in the best of the best hotels when I travel and if I can’t find one of my liking, I fly to my nearest luxurious apartment or villas which I have almost in every capital of the best world. Some I bought and a few I got as gift. I was married twice… but I am not Salman Rushdie.
I didn’t write my first book at eight or 12, I wrote my first one when I was 30. I was not great at almost anything and that is what worked for me; I didn’t have any pressure to study a particular subject and focus on a particular career. I was driftwood.
“You would be nothing one day”, that what my mom shouted at me when she couldn’t get me to take up a law course. She didn’t know that I would be nothing but a writer of the greatest stature one day.
My first attempt at writing was at 16. The hormones were at peak and there was pressure to be seen with the best girl. I had a one in a million chance to be seen with the best but I had a soft corner for the second best. She had the best smile and the top of the line attitude to top it up. I fell for her… it just happened. I wrote a love letter which was never posted and never read by her.
I didn’t write my first book at eight or 12, I wrote my first one when I was 30. I was not great at almost anything and that is what worked for me; I didn’t have any pressure to study a particular subject and focus on a particular career. I was driftwood.
“You would be nothing one day”, that what my mom shouted at me when she couldn’t get me to take up a law course. She didn’t know that I would be nothing but a writer of the greatest stature one day.
My first attempt at writing was at 16. The hormones were at peak and there was pressure to be seen with the best girl. I had a one in a million chance to be seen with the best but I had a soft corner for the second best. She had the best smile and the top of the line attitude to top it up. I fell for her… it just happened. I wrote a love letter which was never posted and never read by her.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
BROTHER
He was born when I was 10. He was my darling but my parents always had problems with him. The bigger he grew so did the complains. I always felt that my father had an axe to grind – he couldn't stand him. Each spring he sprang up and was growing bigger and stronger.
I kept an eye on my father; I feared for him. I once dreamt that father performed a war dance after hacking him. I saw he got me while I was sleeping and tied me to the bed post to avoid my resistance while mother watched with a broad grin. I begged and cried to spare him... I cried my eyes out but father seemed to be under some spell. Father performed a war dance immaculately and hacked him. He shamelessly continued his celebrations till the wee hours of the morning while the entire neighborhood watched.
I woke up in sweat and was shouting, "don't kill him, don't kill him", I had tears in my eyes. I looked around and breathed a sigh of relief that it was a dream and rushed to the window. I felt peace.
He had not come from their seed.
I kept an eye on my father; I feared for him. I once dreamt that father performed a war dance after hacking him. I saw he got me while I was sleeping and tied me to the bed post to avoid my resistance while mother watched with a broad grin. I begged and cried to spare him... I cried my eyes out but father seemed to be under some spell. Father performed a war dance immaculately and hacked him. He shamelessly continued his celebrations till the wee hours of the morning while the entire neighborhood watched.
I woke up in sweat and was shouting, "don't kill him, don't kill him", I had tears in my eyes. I looked around and breathed a sigh of relief that it was a dream and rushed to the window. I felt peace.
He had not come from their seed.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
PAGE 3 (Last Page)
I woke up feeling heavy. My head was spinning. I looked around with my bleary eyes and I had this 'WHERE AM I?' moment. Things looked hazy, I couldn't see much around. Someone walked up to me and called for a doctor.
Darn! I was in a hospital.
Ruckus erupted after someone shouted doctor. Mom, pop and Ana rushed in, mom was sobbing, father maintained the customary stoic stance and Ana was touching my face. "You ok", Ana broke the ice. I manage a faint smile for her; it was coupled with a surge in pain. It seemed, I was there for a long time.
Dad told me that the mangled car was reported by the morning newspaper delivery van and I was rushed here. "How is Ray?", I managed it from the corner of my mouth without parting the lips. "Ray is ok, he just step out. He drops in every evening to see you". "Was he not hurt?", I asked. "He was not with you; he walked home after you drove away".
IF NOT RAY, THEN WHO WAS I DRIVING HOME WHEN “STEF” CRASHED?
Darn! I was in a hospital.
Ruckus erupted after someone shouted doctor. Mom, pop and Ana rushed in, mom was sobbing, father maintained the customary stoic stance and Ana was touching my face. "You ok", Ana broke the ice. I manage a faint smile for her; it was coupled with a surge in pain. It seemed, I was there for a long time.
Dad told me that the mangled car was reported by the morning newspaper delivery van and I was rushed here. "How is Ray?", I managed it from the corner of my mouth without parting the lips. "Ray is ok, he just step out. He drops in every evening to see you". "Was he not hurt?", I asked. "He was not with you; he walked home after you drove away".
IF NOT RAY, THEN WHO WAS I DRIVING HOME WHEN “STEF” CRASHED?
PAGE 2
I was panting when I reached the bridge. Ray had dragged himself to his car and was lying on his stomach. I turned him around and slapped him repeatedly calling his name, he was fast asleep. I had to shout to wake him up. "Damn! Ray, lets get out of here fast", I said while I hauled him into the car. He murmured something which I didn't pay attention to.
That evening Ray had picked me at 8 and drove into the woods with a stockpile of booze in his car. He wanted me to see this house on the river which the legend had that it was haunted. He was super excited, I had not seen him so hearty... all along he kept yapping and I listened while we drank. He planned to camp in the house to get the "chill".
I started "STEF"; that what he fondly called his beat up car. It was his mother’s, she died of some unknown illness when he was just six. I drove full throttle towards home. Their was not a soul around and the night was strangely eerie. I could feel heaviness in the air.
I missed to tell you we never reached the haunted house – Ray couldn’t remember the way to the house and drove around aimlessly feeling frustrated. He guzzled pint after pint and then braked suddenly near to the bridge. He was high and wanted to be a daredevil, he rushed out and I followed. It didn't took him long to decide to jump; he jumped shouting obscenities. I dithered and chickened out.
We had barely made a mile and all of a sudden "STEF" was hit by something. "STEF" careened to the left, I jammed on the breaks and "STEF" turned turtle.
That evening Ray had picked me at 8 and drove into the woods with a stockpile of booze in his car. He wanted me to see this house on the river which the legend had that it was haunted. He was super excited, I had not seen him so hearty... all along he kept yapping and I listened while we drank. He planned to camp in the house to get the "chill".
I started "STEF"; that what he fondly called his beat up car. It was his mother’s, she died of some unknown illness when he was just six. I drove full throttle towards home. Their was not a soul around and the night was strangely eerie. I could feel heaviness in the air.
I missed to tell you we never reached the haunted house – Ray couldn’t remember the way to the house and drove around aimlessly feeling frustrated. He guzzled pint after pint and then braked suddenly near to the bridge. He was high and wanted to be a daredevil, he rushed out and I followed. It didn't took him long to decide to jump; he jumped shouting obscenities. I dithered and chickened out.
We had barely made a mile and all of a sudden "STEF" was hit by something. "STEF" careened to the left, I jammed on the breaks and "STEF" turned turtle.
Saturday, September 19, 2009
PAGE 1
This story has never been told, not even mentioned. You could be the first one to know it.
____________________________________________________
"Jump! jump you chicken", Ray shouted. He wanted me to jump off the rickety bridge into the narrow and deep river which fed water to nine of the major towns and keep them green before it disappeared into the sea. Ray was in the water and waving his hands, I could see his tiny figure mocking me. I tried to gather courage and Ray kept shouting but I didn't take that plunge.
I feared I would be dead before I touch the water. I loved my mom, my pop and my sister too dearly to leave them in pain. I could see my mom crying senselessly while my father maintained a stoic silence just the way he did while he pulled the family out of poverty by working when we kids (me and Ana) slept.
I took a step back left the railing and threw myself on the ground. We had been drinking all night.
I wiped off the tears shouted goodbye to Ray and started walking home. Ray was my mate from school and lived in the palatial house constructed by his grandfather who rose to the rank of General in the army. His father was more interested in academics and went on to do a PhD. I had never met him as he was always delivering lectures in different corner of the world and was rarely home… it drove Ray mad and he hated his father for it. He found a home in my family.
Barely had I walked a mile that I thought of Ray - He was drunk and in the river. I feared for him, he was just like my brother. I turned around and ran back as fast as I could.
____________________________________________________
"Jump! jump you chicken", Ray shouted. He wanted me to jump off the rickety bridge into the narrow and deep river which fed water to nine of the major towns and keep them green before it disappeared into the sea. Ray was in the water and waving his hands, I could see his tiny figure mocking me. I tried to gather courage and Ray kept shouting but I didn't take that plunge.
I feared I would be dead before I touch the water. I loved my mom, my pop and my sister too dearly to leave them in pain. I could see my mom crying senselessly while my father maintained a stoic silence just the way he did while he pulled the family out of poverty by working when we kids (me and Ana) slept.
I took a step back left the railing and threw myself on the ground. We had been drinking all night.
I wiped off the tears shouted goodbye to Ray and started walking home. Ray was my mate from school and lived in the palatial house constructed by his grandfather who rose to the rank of General in the army. His father was more interested in academics and went on to do a PhD. I had never met him as he was always delivering lectures in different corner of the world and was rarely home… it drove Ray mad and he hated his father for it. He found a home in my family.
Barely had I walked a mile that I thought of Ray - He was drunk and in the river. I feared for him, he was just like my brother. I turned around and ran back as fast as I could.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
The End
I almost broke the door open. I felt breathless. It felt like someone has torn my heart out. I yelled and tightly cupped by face and let out a big shout. Tears welled, I couldn’t see anything around and I cried mad. I was exhausted and tired and dozed off.
Next morning, I rushed to “P” place, I found it locked. I had no phone to contact her. I woke up her elderly neighbors who seem to have been up for hours and were enjoying the morning tea. The old man had seen me come around often to meet “P”. He didn’t like me; it was easy to make it out by his expressions. He had even expressed that to “P” who he was too fond of. Even before I could say anything he thrusted the letter into my hand and closed the door on me.
I ripped it open to see a goodbye message from “P”. I knock on the door fervently only to find the old man opening the door and giving me an earful. I didn’t catch what he said as the pain was killing me.
I took a taxi to Max’s pad. I was exhausted. I sat quietly on the big couch while Max fixed breakfast. He plunked some pancakes with maple syrup on table, my favorite. We looked at each other and smiled. Max knew the story...
Next morning, I rushed to “P” place, I found it locked. I had no phone to contact her. I woke up her elderly neighbors who seem to have been up for hours and were enjoying the morning tea. The old man had seen me come around often to meet “P”. He didn’t like me; it was easy to make it out by his expressions. He had even expressed that to “P” who he was too fond of. Even before I could say anything he thrusted the letter into my hand and closed the door on me.
I ripped it open to see a goodbye message from “P”. I knock on the door fervently only to find the old man opening the door and giving me an earful. I didn’t catch what he said as the pain was killing me.
I took a taxi to Max’s pad. I was exhausted. I sat quietly on the big couch while Max fixed breakfast. He plunked some pancakes with maple syrup on table, my favorite. We looked at each other and smiled. Max knew the story...
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
The Day
Didn’t realize I slept the entire day. The knock on the door threw me out of my stupor. I was dead tired and had returned home in the wee hours of the morning. I jumped out of bed; it was too late to rush into the bathroom. Several thought crossed my head in a flash… work, boss, “P” and “S”. The banging continued on the door and after a while I could hear Max calling my name, he probably though I am dead. I shouted and asked him to relax as I opened the door… I didn’t bother to look at him. I turned around and headed straight to my bed.
Max was my childhood friend. We had been to school together, he was this weird kid in the class who ogled every female teacher. Max went on to be a painter and was always borrowing money from me. He always introduced himself as an artist.
He was hysteric and couldn’t believe I took so long to answer the door; he was also confused – why I was home? He continued telling me how he kept trying my number and how worried he was… he feared I had killed myself as per him I was overworked and had a sad life. My phone – it was dead… I happen to drop it en route home.
I felt kind of good. It was the only day in the last two years that I had missed work, though I never intended to. I kind of missed “P”, I last saw her about a week ago. Max fiddled with my stuff out of habit… I asked Max if he would like to catch a flick and asked him to call “P”. Max was busy and didn’t respond. I shouted, “Call P”. “For what? I saw her was this guy from the other side of the town… they were kind of getting a bit cozy”. His tone had sympathy. It killed me.
I picked up my coat jumped out the house and into the taxi to “P's” place.
Max was my childhood friend. We had been to school together, he was this weird kid in the class who ogled every female teacher. Max went on to be a painter and was always borrowing money from me. He always introduced himself as an artist.
He was hysteric and couldn’t believe I took so long to answer the door; he was also confused – why I was home? He continued telling me how he kept trying my number and how worried he was… he feared I had killed myself as per him I was overworked and had a sad life. My phone – it was dead… I happen to drop it en route home.
I felt kind of good. It was the only day in the last two years that I had missed work, though I never intended to. I kind of missed “P”, I last saw her about a week ago. Max fiddled with my stuff out of habit… I asked Max if he would like to catch a flick and asked him to call “P”. Max was busy and didn’t respond. I shouted, “Call P”. “For what? I saw her was this guy from the other side of the town… they were kind of getting a bit cozy”. His tone had sympathy. It killed me.
I picked up my coat jumped out the house and into the taxi to “P's” place.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Story of “P”
“P” was snotty. I liked her because she was snotty and didn’t care much about who is who at work. She had her rules, in at 10 and out at 5. I never saw her put in an extra minute; if she ever was early at work she would spend time smoking outside the office complex. She practically worked half as much as I did and I have this feeling that she was paid twice as much as I was though I never brought it up even for friendly discussion.
She once reported her colleague to the boss who she said “asked her out”, the fellow was never seen at work. Some say he was sacked some say he was transferred to anther unit and some say he committed suicide. I didn’t bother to investigate his case.
My crummy pad was getting crumby each day as I was asked to put in extra hours and even forgo my off day for some learning and value addition which my boss said would help me move up the value chain. I believed him as I had no choice, my eyes were set on his chair as a stepping stone and I once dreamt that I killed him when he invited me for drinks on the way home after work.
She was everybody’s dream… light skin, brown hair and designer perfume. She had the charm of a fairy not to mention the airs. She was perfect for a prince but I happen to meet her. I surreptitiously watched her until that day when she walked up to me and asked if I had smoke. I stammered and managed to say something like “I… I do not smoke… smoke”, she didn’t smile but stared at this book left by my dopey friend Max on my desk. Then she asked me if I was really a fan of John Grisham, I wanted to say no but happened to say "yes". She started dropping in often at my desk; I was cautious as I wanted to live and be in my fat boss’s chair but loved her attention.
“S” was acting on my nerves. Her incessant complains about me not spending much time made me avoid her more. One night she called a hundred times and I pretended the phone was not with me. The next morning “S” knocked on my door and demanded to know if I was seeing someone… to parry her question and shut her up I said “yes”. She was hurt and walked back quietly, I watched her till she turned on the street corner. I didn’t realise I has ended a sweet relationship.
She once reported her colleague to the boss who she said “asked her out”, the fellow was never seen at work. Some say he was sacked some say he was transferred to anther unit and some say he committed suicide. I didn’t bother to investigate his case.
My crummy pad was getting crumby each day as I was asked to put in extra hours and even forgo my off day for some learning and value addition which my boss said would help me move up the value chain. I believed him as I had no choice, my eyes were set on his chair as a stepping stone and I once dreamt that I killed him when he invited me for drinks on the way home after work.
She was everybody’s dream… light skin, brown hair and designer perfume. She had the charm of a fairy not to mention the airs. She was perfect for a prince but I happen to meet her. I surreptitiously watched her until that day when she walked up to me and asked if I had smoke. I stammered and managed to say something like “I… I do not smoke… smoke”, she didn’t smile but stared at this book left by my dopey friend Max on my desk. Then she asked me if I was really a fan of John Grisham, I wanted to say no but happened to say "yes". She started dropping in often at my desk; I was cautious as I wanted to live and be in my fat boss’s chair but loved her attention.
“S” was acting on my nerves. Her incessant complains about me not spending much time made me avoid her more. One night she called a hundred times and I pretended the phone was not with me. The next morning “S” knocked on my door and demanded to know if I was seeing someone… to parry her question and shut her up I said “yes”. She was hurt and walked back quietly, I watched her till she turned on the street corner. I didn’t realise I has ended a sweet relationship.
The Beginning
It starts like this... one fine day; I barge into her house and demanded an explanation. Headed straight to her room, I was almost fuming... created a big ruckus... threw things around, tore her photographs, strewn her things on the floor and left. Thats how it started.
I would have loved to be abused and hit and kicked out immediately. I didn't wait for the explanation... I beat it as fast as I got in. Felt relieved and a bit guilty. Relieved because I didn't had to listen to her emotional nonsense anymore and guilty because I did a bit of damage to the stuff in the house, she had worked hard to decorate it. She was passionate about her stuff, the old pictures, the music CD's and the knickknack she had collected on her travel and as gifts. I walked the pavement and followed it to my room on the south side of the noisiest part of the city.
We had been together for couple of springs. I had just started working and she was already working. She teased me about me being couple of years younger to her. We were in love. She wanted cute kids and I wanted a career. I had this lousy job at the far end of the city and the only way one could show up on time was if they started as soon as their alarm went off at 6. I hated my work life. Each morning I dragged myself unwillingly out of the bed into the bathroom, brushed my teeth while I snoozed and shot out the house by 7 with a sandwich in hand and the socks in my pocket.
The reason I didn't stop for an explanation was because I knew she was seeing someone, someone stupid. I hated her choice of replacement more than her breaking up with me. I didn't tell her this. I had been giving her a cold shoulder lately as I was secretly seeing this girl in office. I kept it secret from everybody till it flew in my face. This girl lets name her "P" was hot and made me melt. I hid it from my girlfriend, lets call her "S" until that day when "S" was desperately trying to reach me as she was unwell and wanted someone to help her to the hospital. I ignored her calls and pretended I didn't have the phone on me... I didn't know that "S" was smart enough to sniff the rat.
I would have loved to be abused and hit and kicked out immediately. I didn't wait for the explanation... I beat it as fast as I got in. Felt relieved and a bit guilty. Relieved because I didn't had to listen to her emotional nonsense anymore and guilty because I did a bit of damage to the stuff in the house, she had worked hard to decorate it. She was passionate about her stuff, the old pictures, the music CD's and the knickknack she had collected on her travel and as gifts. I walked the pavement and followed it to my room on the south side of the noisiest part of the city.
We had been together for couple of springs. I had just started working and she was already working. She teased me about me being couple of years younger to her. We were in love. She wanted cute kids and I wanted a career. I had this lousy job at the far end of the city and the only way one could show up on time was if they started as soon as their alarm went off at 6. I hated my work life. Each morning I dragged myself unwillingly out of the bed into the bathroom, brushed my teeth while I snoozed and shot out the house by 7 with a sandwich in hand and the socks in my pocket.
The reason I didn't stop for an explanation was because I knew she was seeing someone, someone stupid. I hated her choice of replacement more than her breaking up with me. I didn't tell her this. I had been giving her a cold shoulder lately as I was secretly seeing this girl in office. I kept it secret from everybody till it flew in my face. This girl lets name her "P" was hot and made me melt. I hid it from my girlfriend, lets call her "S" until that day when "S" was desperately trying to reach me as she was unwell and wanted someone to help her to the hospital. I ignored her calls and pretended I didn't have the phone on me... I didn't know that "S" was smart enough to sniff the rat.
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