The Homing Bird

“How can I tell her”, he almost cried out, the pain and hurt, clearly evident in his voice. “Its just not possible for me to do this to her.”

“Then let me know where I stand wont you”, she replied, her voice too mirroring her emotions. “The stakes are high for me too you know”, she exclaimed, almost disgusted at his attitude.

They sat together in the park, almost like the Dylan song he so loved. It had been 6 weeks. Only 6 weeks, but it seemed that they had known each other for an eternity. They had spent a lot of time together in these weeks and it had taken both of them very little time to realize the enormity of this relationship. They both were married, to other people of course, and were having their own problems. So it wasn’t strange that they kind of found solace in each other, but what was frighteningly fascinating was the intensity and pace this relationship had gathered in such a short time. It was almost like I finally met my soul-mate in you, he told her, fully aware it was a cliché. But then like all clichés it was true…so very true.

“What do you want to do now”, she asked, her voice more in control after her initial outburst. “I think time has come when we need to take a call and decide.”

He hated such things. The very idea of having to take a decision and that too an unpleasant one, was killing him from inside. And as the inevitability of the situation was becoming more and more clear, he was getting edgier by the day. She knew the reason for his moods, but didn’t quite know how to handle them.

“Yeah I know what you mean”, he said, without even looking at her. There was an air of resignation in his voice, almost a sound of passive defeat, a defeat that was actually conceded. “You tell me what you would have done if you were in my place”, he asked her, knowing well he wouldn’t get the answer he was looking for.

“I think you should go back to her. Because when you are away from her and with me, there is always a part of you, which is still with her. So you are never with me completely anyway. And I know that even if we are together, she will always remain in between us. So it’s better that way”.

“And what about you”, he asked, surprised enough at her answer to look her directly in the eye,for the first time that evening. “Will you be able to take this? Can you really go on without me”?

“I don’t have a choice do I”, she implored, her eyes finally filling up, despite her brave resistance all evening. She quickly took out her hanky and wiped her face in a flash and opened her purse. “Here this is for you, perhaps my last gift to you”. She handed him a neatly wrapped package. “It’s the Tull Live in Greece CD you always wanted, hope you like it. I always hated them Live anyway”, she said.

The moon gave its first glimpse of the evening as she was getting up…

“PAPA PAPA PAPA….”, the angelic cries broke his thoughts of the past and made him come back to the present. He turned around to see his little angel running towards him with a bunch of colourful balloons, obviously bought for her by her mum. Walking behind the little one, she had a contended look on her face. She was glowing like the sun as her extended dress gave away for the first time that an addition to the family was expected. After all it had been 5 months now. “Ready to go home darling”, she asked as she came near him.

“Yes my dear, finally”, he said……after all it had been 4 years and 5 months…..and he was finally coming home.

Copyright (c) Pratik Majumdar

The Rainbow Murder (V.I.B.G.Y.O.R.)

The stage was set for a grand reunion. The seven of them were last together in one room during their college days. And would be so today after 27 years. A few of them had kept in touch with each other but most had scattered away and gotten busy with their own lives. It was solely due to the efforts of Varun that they were getting back together again. He was the busiest and most active of them all in social media and tracked down each one of them and fixed up this meeting. These seven had been thick friends in college and like a rainbow they spread happiness and smiles amongst each other those days.

They decided to meet at Ishant’s place. He lived in the central part of the city and being a bachelor still, his apartment was always open and accessible to all. Bindiya and Gautam who were now married, after a tumultuous on-off relationship/friendship in their college days, lived closest to him. “Let us take care of the food for the evening”, they suggested. Ishant and the others readily agreed. They still remembered the delicious snacks Bindiya would cook up every time they met at her place during college days. Yatin decided to sponsor the drinks. He knew that Ishant was still a teetotaller and he didnt want to risk a “dry” evening. Neither did the others.

Friday 7pm was decided upon as the suitable time. All of them would meet up and the hands of time would be dragged back. Just like those golden days. When life was simple, fun and uncomplicated.

Although they all stayed in different parts of the country, they all agreed to fly down to the city and gather at Ishant’s place. Only Oindrilla stayed in Toronto, but she too happily accepted Varun’s invitation. Living farthest from the rest of the gang, she probably missed them the most. And of course there was Rishi. Everyone knew he had a special fondness for Bindiya and silently pined for her. So when she and Gautam finally hooked up, he was heart broken and stayed away from the gang altogether. In fact everyone was surprised that Rishi had agreed to come at all.

One by one the guests sauntered in. It was like a magical evening. A reunion in the truest sense as all seven of them were meeting together for the first time since college. Everyone seemed to be happy meeting each other. They hugged, laughed, reminisced about the good old days as the music played on. Wine flowed freely and Bindiya’s ho d’ouevres were getting polished easily. Even the shy withdrawn Rishi seemed to be at ease, talking and mingling with everyone including Bindiya and Gautam.

Suddenly in the midst of the merriment, Varun sat down on the nearest couch clutching his chest. In fact more than sit, he staggered there and fell. His breathing was heavy as sweatbeads formed on his forehead and around his neck. His breathing was laboured and he felt as if he was choking.

It took a while for the others to notice. In fact it was Oindrila who first noticed and instinctively let out a shriek. Everyone turned around to see what was happening. Instantly they all gathered around Varun who was clearly in a great deal of discomfort.

“Call a doctor immediately”, Ishant hollered.

“Someone get a glass of water”, Gautam shouted, as Bindiya rushed to the kitchen to fetch it.

“Are you…are you ok Varun”, Rishi asked.

Varun raised his head from the couch trying to say something but all of a sudden his body shuddered and then went limp. His head turned on the right side of the couch and there he lay lifeless.

Bindiya had rushed out of the kitchen with a glass of water in her hand. She looked at Varun’s lifeless body and froze. The others too stared at him in disbelief. They were all speechless.

After what seemed like an eternity, Yatin was the one to speak. “Let’s call a doctor”, he said softly, having still not come to terms with what just had happened. None of them had, in fact.

In the fifteen minutes or so that Dr Joshi, Ishant’s family physician took to come to his apartment, they all huddled around Varun’s body and spoke in whispers. No one could fully comprehend what had happened. Varun was such a health freak. He took care of what he ate, exercised, jogged regularly. What on earth could have happened to him, they all wondered in hushed tones.

“It was a massive cardiac arrest”, Dr Joshi announced, after having inspected Varun. “These things are unpredictable. Sometimes they can happen to the healthiest and fittest of us all”, he sighed as he got up and headed towards the door. “Ask his parents to come to my clinic tomorrow Ishant”, he said as he was leaving. “I will make a death certificate”.

Ishant shut the door as the doctor left. He turned back towards the living room where the others were all sitting silently. Bindiya was consoling Oindrila who was silently sobbing. Rishi too had tears in his eyes and stared vacantly from the verandah to the overlooking sea.

“I better make that call to his mum”, Gautam finally broke the silence that engulfed the room. The party that had started off with so much joy and fun was well and truly over.

6 hours earlier…

“Let’s surprise everyone”, Varun spoke excitedly to someone on the phone. “Let’s meet up now for lunch and then go there in the evening and announce that we’re together now”.

As they had lunch they held their hands and looked into each other’s eyes.

“You know I always thought you liked Gautam and not me. I wish I had known earlier, we could’ve been together all these years”.

“Timing is the key sweetheart”, Oindrila cooed as she gave his hand a slight squeeze gazing deep into his eyes.

“Let’s finish lunch and I need to go back to the hotel for some quick work. You head to Ishant’s place. I will join you there later and then we tell everyone about us”, she whispered.

As they sat together in the Uber, they held hands and kissed. As she was getting off the car, she put a couple of Life Saver mints in his mouth.

“You still haven’t forgotten”, he said, amazed at the fact that even after so many years she remembered his favourite mint.

“See you in the evening darling”, she smiled as she waved him goodbye.

The Next Day…

Oindrilla sat by herself in the first class lounge. Her flight to Toronto was delayed by a few minutes. She leafed through a magazine lazily, but her mind was ticking away actively.

“I didn’t forget anything Varun. I didn’t forget how I loved Gautam and Rishi loved Bindiya. I didn’t forget how both of us wanted you to help us. I didn’t forget how you did nothing but in fact encouraged Gautam and Bindiya to get together. Rishi might’ve forgiven you Varun, but I didn’t. I couldn’t”.

As the announcement for the Toronto flight came loud and clear, Oindrilla got up from her sofa and casually dropped the half packet of Life Saver mints and a small vial of crystal clear liquid (TC-16) in the first class lounge bin.

It was time to go back home.

PS: TC-16 induces a heart attack 8 hours after consumption.

Copyright (c) Pratik Majumdar

The Bustling Streets

“Husbands are always the usual suspects, you know. And I have statistics on my side too. And I love statistics you know”.

The detective winked at him as he said these words. His steely eyes piercing through him as he spoke.

He looked down at the table of the room in which he had been sitting for the last four hours. What had started off as a “casual couple of questions” had ended with the detective sitting across the table and throwing a barrage of questions insinuations and allegations across his face.

It had not even been 24 hours since his wife’s body was found below the bridge. He was at home when he got the call. It’d been a particularly hard day and he had come home only to find his wife not there. He messaged her and she messaged back saying she’d found an investor who was willing to back her project. And she was out to meet him. He smiled to himself as he read that message. “As if she’d ever find someone willing to spend their hard earned money on her nonsense”. He shut his eyes as he lay on the sofa. A slight smirk on his lips.

He was awakened by the constant vibration of his cell phone. He had been in an important meeting earlier that evening and didn’t want to be disturbed. So he’d turned the ringtone off. He had forgotten to put it back on after he had finished his work. He picked up the phone and was horrified at what he heard.

He struggled to get up from the plush leather sofa, but once he did, he raced down the stairs of his apartment to reach his car and drove like a maniac to reach the spot where he’d been asked to come.

A few policemen in uniform and a couple of them in plain clothes were surrounding what obviously seemed to be a body. As he reached closer he recognised it. The beige floral top and maroon bottoms he immediately recognised. A couple of officers stopped him but on telling them who he was they allowed him to get near the body. He saw her face. Eyes shut. She seemed to sleeping peacefully, he thought. Although the stab wounds on her top near the stomach and that single slash across her neck suggested anything but peaceful.

A detective identified himself and asked him to come along. They drove in the detective’s car to the station. “My men will bring your car here. Just a couple of casual questions and you can go home. The shock must be too great, I can understand”. He sounded genuinely sympathetic.

It was four hours since then, nearing midnight and he was still at the station. The sympathetic detective had gradually transformed to a flesh-notching hawk who was hell bent on proving his guilt.

He was tired by now. His whole day had been a hectic one. In fact the last week had been a hectic one. And he really needed a break. Moreover the shocking events of the evening had absolutely crushed him. He was tired. He was grieving, he wanted to sleep.

The detective was about to ask him more questions when a bald man wearing thick rimmed glasses knocked on the door. As the detective turned around irritated to see who the intruder was, he was relieved. It was his friend Thomas. The company lawyer. He was glad to see Thommo finally make it.

“I have bail papers for my client”, the bespectacled man thrust a bunch of papers near the detective’s face. For a brief second he thought Thommo would strike the detective with those papers. “I wish he did”, he thought to himself. He was eager to get out of this hell and grieve by himself.

The detective, once he recovered from the surprising movements of Thommo’s hands, leafed through the bunch of papers, looking alternately at him and Thommo. “So your client here is a big man, is he”, the detective snarled as he got up from his chair.

“You’re free to take him, for now”, he added deliberately. “But sir you know better. Do not leave town while the investigations are on”. His tone was a challenging one. He sounded as if he was letting a convicted killer off the noose. “Mr Mehra won’t be going anywhere Sir”, Thommo’s tone exuded warmth reassurance and a distinctly false sense of humility. “He will willingly cooperate with you and the entire force on the case. After all it’s his wife who’s been murdered. And Shantanu would definitely like to see the culprit being caught. Neelima Bhabhi was…”, Thommo’s voice quivered, totally in line with his overacting.

“Shaan you better go home and rest. Uncle aunty are there. Even Shashank and Madhu have come over. You’ll feel nice with people around you”, Thommo spoke as he drove.

He felt strange entering his own house for some reason. His parents, his brother and his sister in law were waiting for him as he walked in. He didn’t have the will or energy to face them. His mother broke down as she hugged him tight. He put an arm around her to comfort her. His tired eyes pleading with his father to pull her away. He couldn’t handle all this at this time. They all settled down on the large sofa in the middle of the huge drawing room. As everyone spoke, each expressing their shock and sympathy and anger over what happened, he had zoned out. He kept staring around the room wondering how he’d carry on without her. He looked around the room and every object his eyes fell upon reminded him of her. Their happy times together and so many memories. In the midst of their conversations he got up and left. He went up to his bedroom and plonked himself on the King sized bed. He was asleep within a few minutes.

He awoke the next morning with his phone ringing. He hadn’t even managed to change his clothes from last night. He went to wash his face and looked at himself in the bathroom mirror. His eyes were blood shot his hair ruffled and his 2- day stubble looked prickly. Within an hour he had stepped out of the apartment looking and feeling fresher than what he was sometime ago. The detective had asked him to come to the station for “a few more questions”. “As if last night wasn’t enough”, he grumbled to himself as he drove through the city traffic to reach the station.

The questions followed. Days changed to the next days and then weeks and then months. Detective Shardul was hell bent on proving his guilt, but Shantanu remained cool. “When I have not done anything why should I worry”, he kept repeating to himself, during those tough times. Continuous interrogations were enough to drain a man of all his energy and patience. But Shantanu displayed a surprisingly steely resolve and composure. Even he didn’t realise he had so much calm inside of him. He handled all the questions the accusations and the pressure tactics used on him with utmost composure. There was a sense of dogged determination, laced with a sense of supreme self confidence. He loved the look on Shardul’s face everytime he managed to answer his queries and leave him stumped. Shardul was getting nowhere with the case. “I know it’s him sir”, he would answer to his superiors every time they pulled him up for being too strong on Shantanu. He was after all a reputed architect owning a substantial business.

Finally after months of enquiries and investigations it was decided to close the case. There was not an inch of movement that had led them to believe Shantanu could have murdered her. “One of those unsolved cases”, Shardul’s boss told him as they worked on the formal papers to close the case. Shardul has never felt sadder than that day. On his long career he had seen a number of cases being closed unsolved, but somehow this particular one affected him more than the others.

Shantanu was a happy man that day. He was in his office that day when the phone call came. He expressed his relief at his own name being taken off the suspects list. But at the same time he felt sad somewhere that Neelima’a killer had gotten away scot free.

“I would love to come and meet you this evening if possible”, Shardul’s voice sounded surprisingly humble as he called from an unknown number. “I don’t want to make this official as I don’t even have the right to make it one. But since you have tolerated me for so long I hope you won’t mind one last meeting at your house”. Shantanu was surprised at Shardul’s sudden new-found humility. He agreed to meet Shardul in his house. “Maybe he wants to come and admire the sea view or just gape at the artefacts”, he smiled to himself, still trying to figure out why Shardul would request such an odd “unofficial” meeting.

“I just wanted to say sorry to you Mr Mehra”, Shardul said as he extended his hand to shake with him. “I know during the course of our investigations I have troubled you, accused you, abused you, all the while forgetting that you were also grieving the loss of your wife. Maybe I had blinkers on and failed to admit that it could be anyone but you”. Shantanu was surprised at this unexpected transformation. He heard Shardul get more and and more emotional with every drink he poured in his glass. Shantanu was beginning to enjoy it.

3 Months Later

Shantanu lay down on his king sized bed. “You can be such a cunning rascal you know”, Madhu said as she embraced him from behind. “In these last three months I’ve seen a side to you which amazes me but also scares me a bit. The way you engineered dad’s heart attack with the TC 16, mum’s mental breakdown which led her to be shifted to the institution. And Shashank’s “accident”. When I first met you after marriage, I never knew you had all these qualities in you”. “I was always the adopted son wasn’t I”, he swung her across the bed and bent down to kiss her on her neck. “Mmm you smell so nice darling. Does a grieving widow really use so much perfume”, he laughed as he began to tickle her all over her body. She writhed, laughed and fought back with him rolling all over the bed along with him.

“This is a new one for sure”, Inspector Ghorpade said, shaking his head. “Now where has detective Shardul disappeared. Three months and no news of him. Just like that. Out of the blue. Ekdum Se Gayab. I wonder where he went”.

“He was a good man, Shardul was…”,  Shardul’s boss said dispassionately as he looked out of his gloomy office window into the bustling streets of the city.

Copyright (c) Pratik Majumdar

Songs From a Room

They sat on the same sofa. But far apart. He was listening to his Dylan on his headphones. She was perched up on the other end of the sofa, her feet tucked underneath her with a stole wrapped around her. She had Emily Dickinson opened but she was hardly reading it. She was lost in a world of her own. The rains made the only sound pattering away on the garden shed. It was a wet September afternoon.

They were married now for 12 years.

Far away in another city, he suddenly remembered her. He was rearranging his book shelf when he came across a collection of Emily Dickinson poems. He looked at the battered cover of the book and immediately his thoughts raced back to those glorious days he’d spent with her. Those days in college, when they were together. Madly in love. He stopped his book shelf work and stared into space for a while, holding the book in his hand. In a brief span of a few seconds flashes of memories from the past swept across his eyes, leaving them moist. He hadn’t thought of her in all those years and suddenly a book reminded him of her. He tried to continue cleaning his book shelf but was unable to do so. He took the book in his hand and sat down, leafing through it. The book was filled with little notes written by her in pencil. Some parts were underlined and comments were generously strewn all across the book in every possible blank space available. He sat there on the sofa reminiscing about those lost days.

It had been 12 years since college.

She got up from her sofa flinging the Emily Dickinson book on one side. He was lost in his Dylan and took a while to react. By the time he looked up, she’d gotten off the sofa and left the room. He could hear rustling sounds from their bedroom as if she was packing some clothes. He got up from the sofa to follow her in the bedroom.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing” he asked, bewildered, as he saw her place an opened suitcase on the bed and dump her dresses at random into it. There was a look of anger on her face which he’d never seen before. She didn’t answer him and kept on piling up the clothes in the suitcase instead. He came close to her and held her as she was hell bent on over-filling her suitcase. “Just leave me”, she said as she yanked his arm off her. “I am fed up. I am tired. I want to leave. I can’t carry on like this”, she said, her voice rising in pitch with every sentence. “I have tried and I have tried to make peace with you to try and make this work but I have failed” she said, now sobbing softly as she sat down on the bed leaving her pile of clothes the way they were. He kept staring at her face in disbelief. He knew they had very little to say to each other and were drifting apart in general but in truth he was unaware of the intensity of her resentment. He was used to their relationship status quo.

“Don’t say that”, he gently said as he sat down on the bed next to her. His hands were now stroking her shoulders softly. He felt her body stiffen at his touch. She didn’t turn around. He bent down and kissed her on the back of her neck softly, breathing in and out with her, as his mouth remained on her shoulder. He could feel her body relax after some time. She turned around and looked at him finally. “You don’t realise how much I love you do you”, she said, as she held his face in her hands. Her eyes were filled to the brim and her lips were quivering as she spoke. “You ignore me and take me for granted, never ever caring for my feelings”, she continued to rant as she held his face tightly within her palms. He felt her grip getting stronger. He kept listening to her all this time. He didn’t interrupt her. He wanted it all to come out of her. And it did. Finally when she went silent he put his palms on her face in an identical manner and kissed her softly. After a few kisses she kissed him back. They made love after a long time that afternoon.

It must have been 2 years since they last made love.

She kept looking at him sleep peacefully on their bed. She felt a lot lighter and calmer. All her anger her frustrations and her bitterness seemed to have been washed off. The rains outside had lessened considerably. She drew the curtains so that the rays of the evening sun didn’t disturb his slumber. She got up from the bed and began to keep her suitcase back in its place. All the clothes were back again in her wardrobe. She sat down with a cup of black coffee by the window. She picked up the Emily Dickinson book and ran through the pages. They were fresh and hardly had anything written on them. Excepting the little note he wrote to her as he had gifted the book to her on their first anniversary. She looked at the book, then looked towards the vacant ceiling and smiled wistfully.

Far away in the other city…

…he went back to rearranging his book shelf. He went about the cleaning in a more focused way after resuming from his self-induced break. He found more books that reminded him of her. But he didn’t stop to think too much. Just went about his job for the weekend in a dedicated focused manner. “She’s happy. So they say. As long as she’s happy that’s all that matters”, his mind was carrying on a conversation with himself. He finished arranging his bookshelf and was proud of what he’d done. The small studio apartment looked much neater now. He sat down with his phone to check his mail as he put on a Leonard Cohen record.

That same evening in the other city, Leonard Cohen’s Bird on the Wire played on constant mode.

And life went on…

Copyright (c) Pratik Majumdar

A Pack of Croutons

She rolled the windows down, as she drove out of the city and entered the highways. The cool fresh breeze caressing her face as she drove on the smooth roads made her feel alive again. Away from the concrete jungle, she felt recharged amidst the greenery around her. She drove on, as Vashti Bunyan alternated with Catherine Howe on her customised playlist. The old country songs took her back to a happy place. At a time when she played her guitar with a wanton abandon she could only imagine these days. She was happy to discover that the old her was still buried somewhere deep inside.

Her career was high and flying in the city. As one of the leading investment bankers, she had her clients eating out of her hands as she rapidly climbed the rungs of success. Her personal life was finally finding peace after a messy divorce and a lengthy custody battle which she eventually won. It was time for a little break she felt. Which is why she had decided on the rather impromptu trip back to her old childhood town. She knew her kids would be happy with their grandparents in their city penthouse for a couple of days.

As the road signs indicated she was nearing her old town she felt a surge of memories battling to find their place inside her head. Too many of them jostled with each other to make their presence felt. She drove on at a leisurely pace as her mind sped much faster to those happier times.

As she was just about to enter the town she crossed the dead hills, as they used to call them in her town. She got off her car and bent down to touch the last remains of snow, as winter was saying it’s final goodbye. She searched in her mind for both their names written in that snow. Aeons ago. As she caressed the glistening snow she smiled, surprising herself. It had been ages since she had smiled so genuinely. She sighed as she got back in her car and drove on towards the town.

As she approached the town centre, she looked around to see that not much had changed. The bakery, the barber shop, the convenience store, the bookshop. They were all there. Had it not been for the car models, she could have sworn not a day had passed. Her heart was in each of these places at the same time. Those wondrous cream rolls, the first edition tattered Scott Fitzgerald they both fought to read at the same time in the library, the Barber Shop where she’d bribe the old man to make a mess of his hair. She smiled as memories played hide and seek within her.

Then she saw the shop. Conflicting emotions clashed inside her as she stopped in front of the store. She wondered if he was still there. There was no way people in the town could recognise her now. Her chestnut wavy hair had given way to a much smarter, blunter cut. She had lost oodles of her puppy fat to look svelte and chic. And her light brown sunglasses covered her almond eyes and half her face. She wondered more importantly, if she could recognise him.

She entered the store and felt a familiar fragrance engulf her. It was the smell of her childhood, of her younger days. Strangely she felt calmer as she closed her eyes to take in more of the past with her breath. She felt safe and warm from inside. She wandered aimlessly inside glancing through rows of canned food and soup. She picked up a packet of her favourite clear soup. “The sage croutons go very well with them,” she felt an inexplicable rush as she heard that familiar voice. She stopped breathing for a bit, in order to steady her racing heart. She nodded a yes without saying a word. She picked up the bag of croutons without turning towards the direction the voice came from.

She expected to see him at the counter. “Would that be all,” she was surprised to hear a lady speak to her. She looked up and saw a blonde-haired genial smiling face looking at her. She nodded a yes again as she took out money to pay for the soup and croutons. She looked around and saw a young boy maybe a year older than her children, loitering nearby within the store. She smiled at the lady in the counter. “Sweet boy,” she said as she left the store.

She sat in her car, the two packets next to her on the front seat. She wondered where he was. They were inseparable when they were younger. So much younger than today. They dreamed together of a happy future. The only difference was that happiness meant different things to them. He was never as big as her ambitions and her dreams were. “I can never leave this place,” he had told her, all those years ago, when she expected his support for her dreams of making it big in the city. “We can be happy here as well”, he tried to reason. She felt cheated that her aspirations didn’t mean much to him. She felt let down. She wept as she took the bus to the city that decisive night. She felt alone. Being away from home. From him. But in a strange way that made her more determined to succeed. In her later years when she achieved all that she had set out to, she felt satisfied, although deep inside she could never forgive him. And today as she sat outside his store that resentment clawed back at her again. Only now, there were years of memories and moments, which softened the harshness of her thoughts. She smiled softly to herself as she drove on to check-in to the best B&B the town had to offer.

“Why aren’t you eating properly?”, his wife asked him, adjusting her blonde hair, as he sat on the dinner table fiddling with his Sunday roast. The vegetables lay untouched as the meat and gravy went cold. He looked up and smiled at her. His face, despite the year old salt & pepper beard, looked younger and brighter than it had been for a while now. She felt happy to see him this way. She always felt he was at peace but not happy. Today she saw that happiness she longed for, in his eyes.

“I feel like having soup ,” he finally said. “Can you make me a nice one tonight my beautiful missus”, he had rarely sounded sweeter to her as he did that afternoon. She gently placed her hand on his and smiled.

Back in the B&B she made her clear soup and like the old times, munched on the croutons separately.

Copyright (c) Pratik Majumdar

Seven Days

“The denominations need to be small. No large notes remember”, the gruff voice sounded even more menacing in its ice cold avatar. 

She heard it and it registered it in her brain. She knew she couldn’t afford to forget this one. 

She came home and looked at her husband. He was busy on his laptop trying to locate the origin of the call. “I can’t seem to understand why it shows our store room. I’ve traced every inch of it and there’s nothing or no one there. He must be using one hell of a software to fool us”. 

She looked at him confused. She didn’t understand any of this computer business and was all at sea. She simply nodded in meek affirmation when he said this looking at her. 

Two weeks ago their life seemed perfect. At least outwardly. Happily married for 5 years they were both successful in their respective careers. He, as the Marketing Vice President of a leading IT company and she a fast emerging author. They seemed to have it all. 

He loved to take short naps in the evening. He was snoring away on the couch when his phone bleeped a numerous times waking him up from his peaceful slumber. What he saw then, woke him up for good. 

There were a number of pics of his wife lying in bed in a strange hotel room with a man with a rose tattoo on his exposed back lying on top of her. Of the 17 pictures he was sent each and everyone had her face clearly visible whilst that of the guy remained unseen. 

“Pay up 25crores or these pics go up on social media to all your friends. And yes this time with the face you so desperately want to see”, the message taunted. 

He got up from his couch and walked out of the door. She was in the lawn watering some plants. He thrust the mobile in front of her face. “What the hell is this”, he demanded, in a tone that really startled her. 

She dropped the water tube and began to see the pictures on his phone. Her expression changed from that of disbelief and shock to that of being confused. 

“I swear I swear I can’t remember what this is. When this was or who this is. I swear Raghav I don’t know anything about this”. She sounded very genuine indeed but the pictures didn’t lie. “Are you sure these are not morphed”, she asked, almost echoing his doubts about them. 

He looked at the pictures closely again. They definitely didn’t look morphed. “I will try and find out if they’ve been photo-shopped”, he said wearily. His mind was totally confused. On one hand he knew that she could never do something like this. And yet on the other, the pictures !!!. Such strong evidence. He didn’t know how to react. 

He came inside the living room and collapsed on the sofa. She came and sat next to him too. She put her head on his shoulders and started to weep. He instinctively put his arms around her pulling her closer to him. But his mind was still racing away with a thousand thoughts. Who? Why? How? 

They spent the rest of the day in silence. She didn’t do anything but just sat on the sofa, listless and mindless. He kept on working on his computer attempting to figure out where the call had originated from. For the life in him he could not prove that the photos were morphed. They passed every test to prove they were authentic. 

He kept asking her over and over again the next couple of days but she had no different answer to give him. She just could not remember any incident which would have even initiated such a situation as the photographs suggested. It all seemed so unreal to her. At times it felt like her worst nightmare coming true. 

The call came again on the fourth day. “So have you guys decided what you want to do? I am not going to wait forever you know”. 

“Just give us some time. We will pay you. But it takes time to arrange for such a large amount”, Raghav tried to reason with his blackmailer. “And what guarantee is there that you won’t put up the photos once we give you the money”, he asked knowing very well the answer he would get in return. 

“Well there are no guarantees of that you know”, he laughed. “Except for my word. And at this stage unfortunately Mr Mehra you don’t have a better choice, do you”, he smirked just before hanging up. 

“We don’t have a choice Pooja. We have to give him the money”, Raghav looked like a broken man as he spoke to his wife. Pooja looked at him in utter disbelief. 

“Are you saying there is nothing we can do but to bow down before these threats for something that is totally false and untrue? No fault of mine and we have to pay”? Her eyes filled with tears as she spoke. She knew how hopeless the situation was for Raghav to agree to pay. She had no strength to fight after seeing him like this.

“What about the flat”, she asked, as her last shred of hope seemed to be tearing off. 

“We have to sell it. We have to sell everything and move to my company apartment. There is no other way of arranging such a huge sum”, he sounded in a total surrender mode as he spoke. His voice barely audible even though she was sitting next to him. 

He begged his blackmailer to give them two more days. “It takes time to arrange such amount. At least give me two days”, he reasoned. The blackmailer agreed. 

And then came Friday. The day the money was to be delivered. He had the travel bag  ready. It was to be dropped off a bridge the blackmailer specified. He did as he was told and drove off alone, empty and shattered, after dropping the bag off. 

He drove a few kilometres away and opened his laptop. The chip he’d placed in between the notes seemed to moving in a direction towards the city. He slowly began to drive towards that direction. He wasn’t going to let it all go so easily. He had spent his entire life building his life up and he wouldn’t go down without a fight. 

Following the red light he came up to an apartment. He was shocked to see the location. It was Maaya’s. “How did the blackmailer know Maaya”? He wondered as he raced up the stairs to reach her apartment. 

Maaya, the beautiful sensuous new trainee who had joined his organisation and for whom he’d started off as a mentor. Neither of them realised when the mentor-disciple role transformed into a full fledged affair. The passion he felt for Maaya, made him feel years younger than what he actually was. She invigorated him, made him feel alive. Maaya made him want to enjoy life again. A life that he had lost in the race of the corporate world and numbing boredom of married life. 

He had the keys to her apartment, so he didn’t think twice before opening the door and entering the apartment. The living room seemed fine. He was shocked when he went to the bedroom! 

On the queen sized bed Maaya lay lifeless. She had been strangled by a tie, which he recognised as being his own. In fact it was gifted to him by her. As he looked at Maaya’s beautiful eyes which were still open, his gaze turned to the small chip that was placed next to the bed. There was hand written note next to it. 

“You may think you’re very clever. But know this…YOU ARE NOT” !!!

His eyes were blood shot with rage as he read the note, his hands trembling as he held it. He felt kicked in the guts socked in his teeth. His mobile flashed. 

“I have brought this on to you. To us. I have unwittingly led you to this stage. I don’t think I have the will to carry on any more. Am ending my life. I am sorry for everything. Pooja”. 

He could not believe what he was reading. He read it a couple of times more before dialling her number. It was unreachable. He drove like a maniac to reach his house hoping  to stop her before she took any drastic step. 

As he approached his apartment he saw a small crowd had gathered near the bridge close to his home. He stopped there and asked what had happened. 

“Some lady jumped off the bridge just a few minutes ago”, a street vendor said. He kept looking down to see if anything could be seen. He saw a blue dupatta stuck to the corner of the bridge. He instantly recognised it !

He sat down at that moment, holding the dupatta close to his face. He was now sobbing uncontrollably. From a perfect life he had lost everything in a matter of seven days. His wife, his money, his love. Everything was gone. 

The man with the rose tattoo opened the bag and smiled. “I don’t have to count this do I”, he winked as he looked towards her. The lady had her back to him. 

“Oh no darling you don’t have to. Raghav is an honourable man”, Pooja winked as she turned around and hugged him. “Our plan worked liked a dream honey”, she said just before she kissed him on his mouth. 

“He should have known before he cheated on me with that trainee slut”, Pooja said as she zipped the bag filled with cash once more. Their bags were packed and they were ready to leave. 

“You cheated on him too didn’t you”, he laughed. 

“And look where it got me Manav”, she winked at him. 

“You drive first, I need to rest. The last few days have been super hectic”, she smiled as she sat on the passenger’s seat. She knew the drive to the private airspace was only a couple of hours. A private jet ready to take them to a new destination. For a new start. 

Manav sat in the driver’s seat and turned the ignition on. He looked at her and smiled. “Shall we”, he asked. She winked at him and went back to sleep. 

Copyright (c) Pratik Majumdar

Strangers in a park

He sat on the rickety bench in the park, his hand fidgeting with a crumpled old photograph, as he reminisced. His mind was racing away with a thousand thoughts at that moment and he needed to calm down. He needed to take long deep breaths to cool down.

“It’s a terrible thing to be cheated upon.”

He looked beside him and was surprised to see her sitting next to him. As the evening sun’s last rays fell on her face she looked even more beautiful. Her wavy brown hair was left open and her eyes sparkled as she spoke.

“Wh…wh…what?” he asked, surprised at this unknown stranger who had suddenly appeared next to him on the bench.

She smiled knowingly at him as her outstretched hand touched his. They were soft and gentle. But warm. She looked at him in the eye and smiled. There was a familiarity about her which he could not place.

“I know you. And believe me I also know how it feels to be cheated by your closest person. The anger, the hurt, the humiliation. I feel every bit of it like you do at this moment”, she said. Her hand gripped his tighter as she said these words.

“I don’t understand what you’re saying”, he replied, perplexed at the familiarity this stranger was showing towards him.

3 hours earlier.

He checked her whatsapp just as she had gone off to the other room to change. His worst fears had come true, as he hurriedly read all the messages. What he’d been dreading these last few months was now staring him in the face as stark reality. He was shattered.

He followed her Uber from a distance. His heart broke as he saw her enter the plush apartment complex. He knew the inevitable truth. He quietly sneaked in behind her. His heart snapped as he saw her ring the bell. A well built man opened the door and hugged her. He felt his whole body shudder in rage as he saw them embrace.

He didn’t know he had the strength, but he slammed the door open with a ferocious kick. They were still in the living room as he barged in. They broke their kiss to face him, horrified. He drew his pistol from the back and fired indiscriminately at them. The first two shots hit her in the face and she collapsed immediately. As he watched her body go lifeless in seconds he turned the gun on the tall guy, who was shaking violently and pleading for mercy. He didn’t hear anything as he shot at him. His hands were shaking the bullet grazed his upper arms as he fell to the floor beside her body. He ran close to him and kicked him continuously on his bleeding arm, his abdomen and face. He was in blind fury as he kept on kicking the man till he stopped moving.

As he ran out, he saw a frightened face behind the curtain. He didn’t care to know who she was as he ran out of the broken door.

“You didn’t check if he died, you know.”

He was brought back to the present by the soft but assured voice of the stranger sitting beside him.

He turned around to see her properly this time. She was the frightened woman behind the curtain.

“It’s funny how both of us decided to confront our cheating spouses on the same day”, she smiled, as she realised he had finally recognised her. “I hid in the house telling him I was going out and you followed your wife here. It was providence.”

“I saw him move a little after you left you know”, she continued. “And that’s when I knew I had to complete what you started. I used the pillow. The same one on which I used to cry every time he’d cheat on me”.

He kept staring at the crumpled picture he held in his hands. It was from a happier time when they were newly in love. Full of hope and promises of a rosy future ahead of them. How that has led to this!!! He kept staring at the picture for a long time as tears streamed down his face.

“I loved her. I loved her you know. Maybe I still do”, he said in between his sobs. He turned around to face the stranger sitting next to him. But there was no one. She had gone. And he knew he was never going to see her again.

He got up from the bench as he flung the photograph in the nearby bin.

“Maybe there’s a better life waiting somewhere for me”, he thought to himself as he carried his weary body away from the park.

Copyright (c) Pratik Majumdar

Perspectives

He saw her across the corridor. He was certain it was her. He was about to swipe his card to enter his room when he heard that laugh. It was too familiar for him not to look up and turn at the direction from where it came. And then he saw her. With her husband. It was just a fraction of a second before they both entered their room but that was all he needed to know it was her.

He couldn’t believe he’d be seeing her. After all it had been three years. The last time they had met was at the park. On their regular bench where he’d been waiting for her and she came and flung her wedding card on his face and left. He had not seen her since that day. The memories came rushing back to him as he entered his room and collapsed on his bed, blankly staring at the hotel ceiling.

“She must be here on holiday with her husband”, he thought to himself. What a coincidence. He was here for a couple of days for work. And what were the odds that he would bump into her here. They lived in the same city and hadn’t met in three years. And here they were, both in a different city sharing the same floor in the same hotel.

That evening he went down to the oriental restaurant of the hotel for his dinner. He was lost in his thoughts stirring his soup unmindfully when he heard that laugh again. And once more, there she was. This time he got a clearer view and confirmed it was indeed her. She sat facing him, with her husband having his back towards him. He quickly put his head down and took a few sips from his steaming soup. He hoped she hadn’t seen him. She was too engrossed with her husband anyway. From the corner of his eye he looked at her. She was animatedly explaining something to her husband. So typical of her, he thought to himself. Always animated, always excited. Passionate about any and every point she had to make. He could see her husband nod from time as she went on with her words. As always she seems oblivious of the world around her. She was talking to her husband and only saw him.

He remembered their last meeting. It was with the same passion that she spoke to him that day. “You will always remain a loser in your life. You are and always will always remain incapable of taking a stand. Taking a decision. But know this much, I cannot go on waiting for you. I need to move on with my life. And I am moving on. Here see”, she said condescendingly, as she flung her wedding card on his face. He sat there motionless. Stunned by her words, shocked at her outburst! Shattered by her ultimatum! The last he remembered was seeing her brown and light-brown streaked mane bouncing as she stormed off the park and got into her car. He would never see or hear from her again in the next three years.

He was brought back from the past by the waiter asking him if he’d like a main dish after his soup. He hurriedly asked for his bill to be sent to his room as he moved away from the dining room.

He was thankful she hadn’t seen him.

*****

She was happy to see him. The moment her eyes turned as she and her husband were about to enter their hotel room she saw him across the corridor, trying to enter his own room. Fumbling with the swipe card, true to his nature! She laughed out loud. It was a spontaneous laugh and yet part of her also wanted to attract his attention on her. She felt a tad disappointed when he didn’t notice her and entered his own room instead.

As she entered their room, her husband had his arms all over her. She responded to his embraces and kisses alright but her mind was thinking of him. She had seen him after 3 years. It had been that long.

She knew she was the dominant one in their relationship but yet there were some things she wanted him to take charge. For seven years they were together and yet he showed no signs of coming up to her family and making things official. He kept on delaying it for some reason or the other. Finally she had to give in to her father’s wishes. Actually more than ‘give in’ she gladly accepted. She was fed up. 

She remembered the same fumble, the lack of reaction the unwillingness to react that fateful day when she flung her wedding card on his face and walked away. She half-expected him to get up from his slumber and follow her. Cajole her, plead, beg her to stay, to change her mind. But he didn’t. As she sat in her car, she waited for a couple of seconds before turning the ignition on. Hoping against hope he’d make a last minute appearance asking her to stop. But he didn’t. And she drove away. As she made love to her husband, old memories came rushing back to her, as she stared blankly at the hotel ceiling. A solitary tear, rolled down her eyes.

“Chinese or Indian”, her thoughts of the past which stayed with her in the dining room, were broken by her husband’s enquiry. “Indian please”, she replied almost instantly without a thought. She didn’t want to be disturbed from her past. She had seen him sitting in the other corner of the large dining hall. Contemplating whether to take a sip from his soup or not. Unsure, undecided, hesitant as always. She saw him and once again, like at the corridor, laughed out loud. Then she turned to her husband to explain animatedly why she preferred to have Indian that night instead of her usual favourite Chinese. Her husband kept nodding away, used to her nature by now. But a larger part of her excitement was to try and catch his attention across the room. Throughout their dinner, she spoke to her husband, held his hands at times, but her mind was on him all the while. She hoped against hope that this time he would see her. “At least make eye contact” she pleaded in her thoughts. His dinner was short. He finished his soup and got off the table. 

She was disappointed he hadn’t seen her. 

*****

As he was checking out of the hotel strains of a Dylan song wafted in from a distance. He heard the lines oh so clearly:

Me, I’m just on the road

Heading for another joint 

We always did feel the same

We just saw it from a different point of view

Copyright (c) Pratik Majumdar

Charlie’s Motel (Highway 62 Revisited)

He knew he couldn’t reach his destination that day. It was evening already and he still had over 200 miles to cover. He didn’t trust his night driving skills too much and decided to take a halt. It was the dreaded Highway 62 and he wanted to stop and take shelter for the night in a proper motel. There were innumerable instances of people along with their vehicles disappearing mysteriously from Highway 62. He wanted to make sure he found a proper motel to stop for the night.

His car radio played a mix of CCR and Little River Band. It was a compilation he’d made himself and loved playing it on long drives. There were also a couple of Lynnrd Skynnrd songs thrown in for good measure. His eyes were drooping now and he knew he had to stop when he saw the motel.

Charlie’s Motel was a brightly lit motel which seemed to have come up recently. The building looked new and modern and had a bright neon shining with said VACANCY. He felt relieved. Motels were far and few on this highway and most of them derelict and run down. This one seemed the happy exception.

He parked his car in the parking outside the motel. There weren’t any other cars parked. The highway wasn’t a busy one these days ever since the new 8-lane motorway had come up but even then he was surprised not to see a single car.

He walked in to an empty reception area. The place smelt of new paint. He waited for a while for someone to turn up but no one did. From further inside he thought he heard the radio play country music. He pressed the bell on the reception a couple of times in quick succession.

After a few minutes a tall gentleman not a day older than 30 walked up to him. His jet black hair was gelled sideways neatly and his piercing eyes had an unmistakable twinkle about them. His lanky frame was accentuated by the loose black pullover he wore over his faded blue jeans. “Can we help?”  he asked with a slight smile.

“Well I need a room to stay the night and if possible some dinner as well. I plan to leave early morning tomorrow so maybe I can pay you the full amount now itself, if you can offer me a room,” he asked, knowing that the motel was empty.

“You’re in luck aren’t you,”  the motel owner replied, his smirk intact. “We have 12 rooms and 12 vacancies. You can in fact choose your room,”  he laughed loud.

“Well I’m just dead beat and wouldn’t mind any room really. Give me room 7 if that’s ok.” 7 was his lucky number and he felt comfortable spending the night in that room.

“I’ll get you a burger and chips,”  the motel owner said as he helped him with his suitcase in the room. He was pleased at the motel owner’s hospitality. “A burger would be nice”, he replied as he stretched himself on the comfortable double bed.

He didn’t know when he had dozed off. The bed was really comfortable and his tiredness from driving the whole day had finally crept in. He was just sinking into a deeper slumber when he heard the knock on the door.

“Hi I am Charlie, of Charlie’s Motel”, the lanky gentleman finally introduced himself, as he placed the tray of burger chips and a milkshake on the table adjacent to the bed. “Enjoy your dinner. I will be at the reception in the morning when you leave. You can pay me then”, he said as he left the room.

He was groggy from being woken up but his hunger made him open his eyes fully. He looked at the appetising burger and devoured it in no time washing it down with an occasional sip of the milkshake. Charlie was right. “The burger is excellent indeed”, he said to himself, as he got up and walked towards the window after finishing his simple dinner. He called his wife back home as he stood near the window. “Will reach by lunch time tomorrow darling” he said. The neon light was still flashing the VACANCY sign. It was late at night and there was not a single car seen on the deserted highway. “It’s time to sleep”, he thought to himself heading back to the comfortable bed.

He slept peacefully.

Next morning Sergeant Johnson led his search team across Highway 62. “Yet another missing person on this God-damned wretched highway. I wonder why folks still use this route”, he thought to himself. The GPS tracker showed this stretch as the last place where the victim’s phone was used. But this was an empty stretch of land. No building no sign of anything was around the two mile radius of the last place of GPS tracking. “I wonder why he stopped here.” the Sergeant wondered. “There is nothing here. I remember somewhere in this vicinity there was that motel which belonged to Dave and Melanie’s son Charlie. That was some 30 years ago. When the highway was bustling and motels did terrific business. But now there’s nothing. Wonder why the guy stopped here. There isn’t a soul around anywhere nearby,” the sergeant walked away confused, not knowing where next to conduct his search.

 “Another missing person on Highway 62” he sighed as he got on to his jeep.

Copyright (c) Pratik Majumdar

Kidnap

She kept looking at him and carried on laughing. Her mouth was gagged and there were bruise marks on her face. Her hands were tied at the back. She knelt in the corner of the old store room. And she laughed and laughed.

“Stop it!!! What the hell is wrong with you,” he asked her, taken aback by her behaviour. “You’ve been kidnapped and a ransom demand has been made to your father. And here you are, laughing away hysterically.”  He just couldn’t believe her.

“What can I do,” she said, trying to control her laughter, but failing miserably. “This whole thing is so funny. I just can’t help it.” She burst out into heavy laughter all over again. “I am trying to visualise my dad’s face when he gets this video. I wish someone recorded his expression as he saw this video,” she laughed.

He stood there watching her laugh despite her situation. It was then he realised how much she hated her father. Four months ago they were strangers to one another. They had met in an online group on Beat Literature and had gotten close to one another. He loved her knowledge and passion about all things Beat. And she loved his spontaneity, wit and style of writing. They soon began to communicate with each other even outside the group. It was just over a month since their introduction in the group, that they met in person.

He found her attractive and was drawn to her almost instantly. She too seemed eager and keen to be with him and to get to know him even better. It was an instant and intense attraction between them. Gradually as time went by, she opened up to him. He found out that her mother had passed on. And that she blamed her father for her death. That accident had created a rift between her father and her and that she was pulling herself more and more away from her father. Sometimes she would tell him about her outbursts at home and he felt she was deliberately making things tough for her father. It seemed to him, that she would do anything to antagonise her father.

It was her plan.

At first he was shocked. Too stunned to even react. But she kept on pressurising him. He knew how convincing she could be and ultimately gave in and agreed.

He would “kidnap” her from her yoga class one evening and keep her locked in a far off desolate place. He would film her being roughed up and tied and gagged and send the video to her father from an untraceable number. And then ask for a fancy sum as random. “Naturally we will split the money” she told him. “After all I want my share too,” she said with a smirk on her face. “And your share will be useful to you too. Dont tell me that you don’t need the money,” she looked at him in the eyes with a smile that sent shivers down his spine. Sometimes her coldness, her ruthlessness, scared him. He agreed.

As per her plan , he fake-kidnapped her on a Wednesday. They had earlier selected a desolate bungalow, a couple of hours drive outside the city. They went there and then he tied her up gagged her gave her fake injury scars on her face and then shot the video. She put up a fantastic performance as the hapless victim. He promptly sent the video to her father from his phone, after successfully ensuring the call could not be traced back to him. It was all working like a dream.

As they sat together waiting for her father to respond, he suddenly got worried. “What if your father refuses to put the ransom? Then what?” From what all he had heard from her about their relation he couldn’t be absolutely sure that he’d agree to pay.”Oh he will surely pay,” she reassured him. “He has to show the whole world how much he cares for me, although I know secretly he’d wish I was dead,” she added with a deadpan face.

It was a Friday.

Finally her father responded. He was willing to pay the sum as demanded by the kidnapper. They both saw his message and were elated. “At long last,” she exclaimed !!! “My worries will be over. With half that amount I don’t have to be with him any more. I can live on my own.” He too was happy that her father had agreed. But this was the toughest part of the whole plan, he realised that.

“I will make it really tough for him before he gives the money,” he thought out aloud. The day for payment was decided as Monday. It will be a weekday and nice and crowded in most places.

He hatched an elaborate and complicated plan to get the money. He kept sending instructions via text messages to her father making him run from one end of the city to the other, never giving him a clue what the next step would be. Finally after making him run for more than a couple of hours he asked him to step on a local train and throw the bag from the train near a bridge. Her father did exactly as he was instructed.

It was evening when he came back to the storeroom where she still was “kidnapped” and kept. He had a gleam in his eyes as he dangled the bag containing the ransom amount in front of her. Her expression mirrored his, as they excitedly emptied the contents of the bag and began to make two separate piles. That’s when he noticed she had a revolver in her bag. For the first time he’d seen that. “What’s this for,” he asked with a surprised look on his face. “Oh it’s always there with me, for protection,” she replied calmly. “Is it real?” he was worried as he asked her. “I wonder what else I don’t know about you,” he looked at her with an uncertain smile.

She smiled and fired a shot from her gun in the air. A chunk of the ceiling cement fell near both of them, startling him. She laughed out loud again.

And then there was another shot.

He turned around to see her father standing at the door of the storeroom with a gun in his hand. He was pointing it at his daughter and she pointed her gun back at her father.

As he stood perplexed in the middle of all this, she quietly got up and went closer to her father, her gun still pointed at him. Her father’s gun too remained pointed at her. Their cool and calm demeanour was enough to unnerve him. “What the hell is happening here,” he screamed at her!!!

“Nothing my darling, just settling a few old scores,” she smiled as both she and her father stood next to each other and turned their guns simultaneously on him. She and her dad looked at each other and smiled.

4 years ago…

It was a busy Monday when they left the city. “Hopefully the highway wont have much traffic,” he said looking directly at his wife. Their 19 year old daughter was seated at the back seat excited about going for a short break out of the city in their new car.

“Please look at the road and drive,” his wife admonished him lightly, a tad embarrassed at his show of affection. He looked straight towards the road and smiled knowingly. They were all happy that day.

Out of nowhere a speeding car came from the wrong wide of the road and crashed straight into them. Before he could steer the car away the crash happened, loud and hard, making the car turn turtle. The sounds of screeching breaks and shattering glass all around buried their screams and shrieks.

It was nine hours later that she opened her eyes. She found herself in a hospital with bandages and drips all around her. Her father too was injured but less than her. When she gingerly asked about her mother, all he did was to shake his head, unable to stop his tears from flowing out.

It took father and daughter some time to recover from the physical shock of the accident. About eight months later he finally spoke to her about it.

“I got the number of the other car. I will find out who was driving it. His car didn’t suffer much. Neither did he. He waited for sometime but didn’t budge an inch to help us. I cried out to him to help us out of the car but he didn’t. He looked at me and sat back in his car and drove off. Your mother would have survived had he…” her father’s voice trailed off as his eyes swelled up again.

She held his hands tightly and looked at him. “We will find him papa, we will,” she said as she squeezed his hands tightly.

Present day:

Flies hovered around his dead body. There were two bullet marks on his forehead. One each fired from the two revolvers. The revolvers were thrown in the lake 23 miles from the region of the storeroom. He lay there stripped of all his identity and belongings.

She made two cups of black coffee and put them on the tray containing the almond cookies. She carried the tray to the balcony where her father was sitting, watching the evening sun set. She sat next to him and rested her head on his shoulders. Neither said a word. But their silence that evening spoke louder than anyone else.

Copyright (c) Pratik Majumdar