Figure me out

The lights flickered blur as we entered the complex. The silhouette of the ancient tower looked eerie in the moonlight. Time, like a deceitful chauffeur drove me with its foot more off the gas than on & everything appeared to move in slow motion. The liver's got a unique modus operandi to quench its insatiable appetite for the ecstatic brown spirit brewed in the Scottish highlands, it does so by creating a simmering crave in its keeper's brain while disgorging other things down the drain in its desperate pursuit. And so it was for me, as the music sent shock waves one after the other through my bones piling on the euphoria & reckless energy I needed for the trip.  I was at the best party I'd seen so far as the lights flickered and the hips swayed... the hips swayed on

A passing red ant commands as much respect as the wailing red siren. As it walks twig over twig, leaf over leaf. It's given a priority by other inferior black ants of the same species as it single handedly claims their quarry .. a dead insect. I always arrived late to school, and the class was postponed for me. Every student I had an altercation with was rusticated & every professor that opposed me was transferred. I always wondered what was that anonymous bizarre hegemony behind me, that justified all my actions. And with that my obsession for power burgeoned exponentially. And tonight this obsession was further aggravated by the colourful lights, trippy music and the crave for the euphoria liquid. The lights flickered on going in circles & the hips swayed in unison to the thumping of thunder ... the hips swayed on 

The intensity of delirium that comes out the brain at the cracking sound of the rifle, the perfect projectile of the lead coming out of it and the fresh aroma of gunpowder is gargantuan. Blame the yanks or blame blightey, my fascination for firearms started off by those American movies as Arnold pumps lead & the marauders get disintegrated & disembowelled into bits. I was even surrounded by people with heavy carbines wearing dark shades & grey suits looking like agents of the CIA & all of that for my protection...

Time is so fast paced & you're sprinting closer to death with your birthdays as milestones, but with the firearm in my hand and the glint of fear in my opponent's eyes slowed time & when I fired it just stopped still, it was Nirvana for me.Their despair was my euphoria .. That is when I decided to buy me a firearm & got a Beretta 92F licensed in my name. It was a beautiful semi automatic, issued only to those privileged to have dangerous terrorists threatening their life, well I had my own terrorists skulking in my skull between my ears. The predicament with this kind of firearm was it was a 9mm & it's ammunition a.k.a. ''prohibited bore'' was restricted to the privileged & every bullet had to be officially accounted for & besides it was exorbitant.. I therefore got the cheap & effective .22 calibre rounds & got myself a conversion kit shipped from Houston which in effect gave me a greater deal of flexibility & a longer range & the smaller ammo meant more in number. I was ecstatic even more so by the thumping music of the crowded dance floor while the hips swayed like crazy ... yeah the hips swayed on  

He who cannot think is a fool, he who will not, a bigot & he who dare not, a slave. There was no dearth of slaves in the sugar mill I owned, all too gratified to my tyranny to sustain their fleeting existence. Their fear wasn't too obvious but wasn't too secret either. But a majority of them acted as if they were oblivious to my whimsical fantasies & those who didn't, well the Beretta needs some work doesn't she, say to decorate a few foreheads with blood and brains hahaha. The beretta, the bottle & the swagger in the tongue meant trouble for them, this was urchin country & I was the law. A place where adrenaline turned to blood & gore, where failed cupidity turned to diabolic lust only satiated against the will of the victim. It was all too common & I wondered what the big mighty capital city had in store for me & therefore I ventured out with my inebriated counterparts from the profoundness of the calm night to the glitz & glimmer of the hallucinating flickering lights of the capital. The cold metal of the beretta in the bowels of my trousers virtually gave me a hard on. The phantasmagoria of the music & the colourful lights pumped adrenaline like that into a fired up athlete while the hips swayed on violently ... the hips swayed on 

Of all tyrannies, a tyranny exercised for the good of its victim may be the most oppressive, it may be better to survive under the authority of marauder barons than under omnipotent moral busybodies. The marauder's cruelty may sometimes sleep, his cupidity may at sometime be satiated. However those who torment us for our own good will torment us endlessly, for they do so without the approval of their conscience. My craving for the paradise liquid burgeoned to a point that I started demanding drinks from other revellers like I owned the country and they held on to it as if their lives depended on them, I tried many a tactic upto the point of moral misbehaviour but their determination was relentless. In a state of forlorn despair I headed to the bar counter, flicked a fresh wad of notes & flashed it to the waitress at the bar. She refused. I dont take no for an answer but I was a little timid tonight, however she began ranting about my inebriated state & started ranting moral sermons about how I must behave myself. My trip was getting blown to smithereens & the hallucination began fading, the diabolic monsters screaming in me to red me off the bitch. In a sudden rush of adrenaline like the inferno out an exploding grenade I pulled out my beretta, fired a shot the air & pointed the barrel at her & fired another shot in quick succession straight into her temple, she whimpered choking on her own blood & collapsed on the floor as I walked out the bar. 

My name is Siddharth Vashisht a.k.a. Manu Sharma & this is why I murdered Jessica Lal. 

                                                                                                                                 29/04/1999

The Wait

It was a special night, the whole house is lit with candles, bright lights, flowers sweets and lots of smiles. Her son is coming from afar the next day. She is Oh Lord waiting for many days for this day. The jasmines that adorns her hair haven't faded yet. Their perfume still haunting the courtyard before her ... ''The speciality of the baby was it used to urinate on every guest and give that wicked wink while the embarrassed guest headed to the restroom to clean up their miss, when she held him he'd give the same wicked wink and baby laugh & that was the one thing that made  her smile the most''. 

Tranquil and delighted is she Oh Lord, adorned with bangles and jewellery to celebrate the day. The multi coloured bangles lit the night like a rainbow against the flames of the many candles and the courtyard is filled with flowers and gifts awaiting his return. ''The butter jar was wide open & he'd disappeared, the little boy was a clever thief and butter was his favourite steal, he'd cry wolf in the village as she ran to tend her cows while he stole the butter and ate them. However rather than being angry, she was happy as that would only make him stronger & he could never be forced to eat food''. 

She enters the altar like a Goddess wiping her tears with her saree, bedazzled in joy she thinks about him, magnanimous and virtuous, her son's image being evoked out the dim light of the lamps. '' With the strength equivalent of two people and running speed as fast as an antelope, and the aim of an owl. He was by far the strongest youth in the village, perhaps the butter had worked its magic. His mood like his father's was always towards the wider humanity & his countrymen. No wonder he got himself recruited to serve his country on the frontlines. However he promised he'd regularly write to her. Farewells & welcomes were adorned more with tears than smiles.''

The home abound with fruits, sweets and flowers, new silk clothes and lots of studded jewels, but yet, but yet she grieves pining for his love.. Does he have any pity on her. Without her son her house has become her prison & her bangles have become her shackles. '' She first got to know about it when the village postman informed her of a war happening afar along the borders against the wicked neighbour, the whole village was singing with rumours and the postman started carrying more tears than letters''

A woman with a son must not sigh in despair, she mustn't at any cost grieve O Lord. The garland of jasmines  adorning her mustn't be crushed and the bloom of beauty mustn't fade. What must she do if her son hasn't come. Why's his heart made of stone? She folds her palms in a quiet prayer . She dreams only of him.

 '' And finally he came, he was so great that he got escorted by armed guards and had the tricolour wrapped tight around him, she saw him lazing inside a box.. in a deep sleep which he'd never wake up from. The guards took formation & fired into the air in unison & saluted. He'd martyred himself fending his post off an entire battalion of enemy troops repulsing their attack wave by wave. He always had a mother who was above all that he called his motherland and he'd served that mother to the hilt. 

But what about this mother? Had he ever given a thought. Yes he did. He'd thought many times and because of what he did in that post that night, many mothers like her got to see their sons and received them back in their villages smiling and thanking the Lord''

And suddenly the clouds get overcast & the distant sounds of thunder get closer, the rain lashes down ferociously without any mercy fading and extinguishing the carefully lit lamps, the downpour carries with it the decorated flowers as she stands facing the Lord and promises she'll redecorate the whole courtyard again and wait in anticipation the next night hopeful that her son will get home some day ....

Angry Eyes

''Driver uncle, driver uncle, fast fast''. Shouted he at the top of his lungs. His rough hair was unkempt & his uniform was dirty from the fights he'd had in school. The tie was half opened and a few buttons were undone. Everyone feared that wild courage and he enjoyed that fear. The bus was racing past narrow alleyways as driver uncle too had come under his spell as they were trying to outrun a faster SUV from behind. Driver uncle briefly came out of his spell as he tried to avoid a speed breaker & braked hard. The sudden momentum caught the boy off guard as he tumbled forward crashing onto someone. As he got up he was entangled in a mass of hair. He got up to get a glaring fearless stare from the most beautiful eyes he'd set eyes on. It was his turn to get mesmerised and ever since she became his first crush and his weak spot. She however never spoke to him since & left school in a week. Was it because of him he wondered. Bad boy !!!

Life moved on ...

The college trip wouldn't have been more fun had the group not been travelling on the coastal express meandering through the misty mountains in the morning. The lush greenery and tropical rainforests, tunnels, bridges and waterfalls were everywhere. The view was breathtaking. Despite all this his friends decided to camp inside the compartment asleep. He took a walk across towards the foot-board. The chill was nudging his spine, 'perfect ambience for a smoke' the thought as he pulled the pack of Dunhill cigarettes he'd had in his pocket & lit up. As suddenly and as subtle as a whisper, the tap of the wash basin behind him opened & he turned around to see the same pair of beautiful angry eyes he'd so longed for in school. Those eyes had grown older and much more beautiful with age. They were filled with rage beckoning him to stop polluting the compartment with smoke. He immediately chucked the cigarette down a ravine & as he turned behind she was nowhere to be seen. He frantically searched the train, compartment by compartment but never found her.

The clock ticked on ...

He always felt he looked ugly in a suit, but he'd had no choice tonight. It was the norm of the corporate world & so were air conditioned offices, computers, busy secretaries tapping their keyboards, shining floor, jampacked lifts & worst of all.. boring meetings. And that was the exact purpose of him being here at the corporate park skipping the party of a lifetime at his friends birthday bash for the sake of this meeting. After all this would determine the stepping stone he needed in his career. He then met some of his colleagues at the coffee counter & they began ranting on & on about the new appointment, a grumpy boss & were laughing their guts out at his eccentricities & failed policies, he laughed so much that he choked on his coffee, he turned away & with his eyes closed, coughed hard & the coffee in his mouth spilled out onto someone. As he opened his eyes he saw them yet again.. the same angry eyes & a stained dress. The fire in his heart lit up yet again & before he could open his mouth his boss beckoned him for the meeting & he watched her shoot towards the wash rooms. And yet again he searched for her around the offices & yet again she'd disappeared without a trace. Naughty luck.

The years rolled on ...

It's been ages since I'd stepped into a hospital. My health never let me down however there was good news in the family as my cousin had just delivered baby twins & everyone of us had rushed into the hospital to have that first glance. In a sense of jubilation & elation I unknowingly bumped into a group of people, doctors nurses alike hurriedly moving a stretcher to the operation theatre & by chance I looked at the person on it.Something about it struck the chords in my heart. Those eyes, I'd seen them before & they looked back at me, as if they had something to tell me. Amid all the chaos, my heart was a raging inferno. She was covered in blood & she raised a hand with something in it. A letter. I grabbed it with both hands and was stunned still as she was whisked away into the operation theatre. The pune next to me said ''Poor girl, she was rushing on the road without watching the road right in front of the hospital & she was hit''

The seconds raced on ...

With trembling fingers I opened the blood covered letter. The handwriting was as beautiful as her eyes. It said -

'' Dear Kartik, I first saw you in my school bus while you shouted & bumped into me. I was angry at first & then your courage enamoured me. I gradually started falling for you & I was so captivated that I shared this with my momma. As a result of which I was made to leave your school and join another one far far away.

I'd lost all hope of seeing you, I'd closed my heart to the world & decided to journey the country all on my own & hey presto, bumped into you again on the foot board in the train. I was elated at seeing you but ever since my father died of cancer, my hate for smokers grew more than my love for you & I made a big stupid decision & ran away from you. I regretted that ever since.

I bumped into you yet again in the office cafeteria, and yet again I was so happy to see you & my infatuation for you had grown into deep love. I was about to express my feelings but felt a bit shy in front of your colleagues & after I cleaned my shirt & came back looking for you, you'd disappeared into thin air & as luck would have it, I've seen you yet again today at the hospital & I'm in a rush to give you this note & express my feelings. ''

The seasons have a mind of their own & so do tears which wildly streamed down searing my face into dread as I watched the light above the operation theatre turn red.

The yellow scarf

'' If you truly madly deeply love me,

Oh, tie the yellow scarf round the ole oak tree,

Cause I couldn't bear to see what I might see

I'm really still in prison & my love you hold the key

A simple yellow scarf's all I need to set me free ''

The tune kept humming in his head as he watched her intently gaze back at him ruffling his hair. Her silky smooth hair wavering around dancing with the breeze made her look like a fairytale genie. They were sat under a tree in the shade of the moonlight wrapped under a blanket of the million twinkling stars. The only sound they could hear was the crashing of waves against the mighty rocks and the shining beacon of the lighthouse signalling the distant ships to keep away from them.

For many it might look like a dull irritating habit which would cause one's head to split up, however in the haze of infatuation, it was perhaps something he'd longed for all his life. Her perfume caressed the air around his nose like a hallucinating drug & her touch put the warmth back in him during the cold night. At that moment he knew he was in love. But his mind kept going back to that yellow scarf.

Like an awful commercial break smack in the middle of a kickass cinema, the yellow scarf kept recurring again & again while the flashbacks dawned on him, each with greater intensity than the other. About how he'd yearned looking at the ceiling fan for this night, almost every night. About how he'd consulted the scientific and supernatural to achieve this moment. One particular instance bothered him the most. The day he'd visited the sorcerer for some clairvoyance. About when he was told to tie that yellow scarf with two rocks, one rock of his & one rock of hers into that big oak tree up the hill yonder. About how he'd realise the true value of his love by doing that.

He'd asked her to get the yellow scarf that night. He confided in her his intentions and as agreed upon they gathered two pebbles nearby. He picked one and she picked the other. She carefully placed the two pebbles on her yellow scarf and folded the scarf tying it into a bun. In the dim light of the moon he could see her name knit in the corner of the scarf. With a twinkle in his eyes & euphoria in his soul he thought, this act of tying the yellow scarf would make their love immortal & thus they spent the night in each other's company before sneaking up to their respective homes before the break of dawn.

As the darkness dwindled the next morning & his eyelids slowly opened, he could see the yellow scarf, his fingers tightly clenched around it. He'd held it close to his heart all morning. He got ready & with the scarf in hand he huffed & puffed his way up the steep precipe of a hill to reach the oak tree. As he approached the summit, the view seemed breathtaking. The blue sea all over & the ships scattered around like ants in the background. He could now see the oak tree perched bang in the middle of the summit, it was the only tree up there.

Elated & joyous he approached the big oak tree to find a strong branch to tie the scarf onto. As he got closer he could see many scarves tied around the tree. ''Many courting couples wanting to make their love immortal'' he chuckled with a smile across his face from ear to ear. As he was about to tie the yellow scarf he happened to steal a glimpse out the corner of his eye at another scarf, just like his made out of the same silk material & having the same pattern. Out of curiosity he surged forward to take a closer look, it had her name clearly knit on it. His heart was shattered, the world around him seemed to collapse. He looked around and saw more scarves and many had her name written on it.

Tears streaming down his face & pain searing his chest he sat dejected. Until he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to look around. In front of him stood the prettiest girl he'd ever seen. Her silky smooth hair wavering around dancing with the breeze made her look like a fairytale genie, her eyes the colour of heaven. The radiance of her velvet skin making the glow of the sun look insignificant. The perfume so intoxicating that he was lost in hallucination once again. ''This is not a dream, this can't be a mirage'' he convinced himself rubbing his eyes in disbelief. Not until she held out her hand and held open a yellow scarf with one rock in it and said '' I need another one to tie this scarf, will you add that rock for me? '' & kissed him.

P. S. - A fiction based on a mix of multiple true facts. Opinions are the sole ownership of the reader's discretion. Haha Enjoy.

Strangers

We are strangers, you and I

destined to nothing,

but a hello & a bye.

a casual glance, a smile

a desire to make merry

Before reburying back

Into the blackberry

Strangers? Not quite yet

You and I

A salsa of the uncertain,

Of half hearted steps,

uncomfortably taken

unbeknown of a how & when

a catastrophic miscalculation

Aint we strangers any more?

you and I

days when dreams annexed reality

nights when fantasies conquered chastity

that disappeared in a crimson tsunami

disseminating any honour left or any vanity

No we aren't strangers any more

You and I

And when the malice's passed

With the years gone by

When we've shed our tears

& laughed our guts away

A life fruitfully withstood

It may be then,

it may be then that you look back

retrospect back memory lane

a stranger that you knew

and wonder

Wonder if he remembers you

Late

Perhaps its too ''late'' to write this story but however dark be the cloud there is always a ''late'' lining. I am going to narrate an incident which exemplifies exactly that.


Jogging my memory at a cheetah's pace to back in the day a few years ago, it was a ''late'' December evening when I had called her and called her ''late''. I then had a good night's sleep and then disaster struck like a chain reaction.

• The alarm rang ''late''

• I got up ''late''

• Approached the bathroom to brush my teeth, take a bath, drink some milk and head to the meeting rendezvous but I had forgotten to get the soap, paste and milk the previous day.

• I sashayed across to the corner shop. It was shut & the shopkeeper was ''late''.

• I didn't brush, didn't take bath, didn't drink milk. My phone's battery battery was down, the electricity wasnt there & it was supposed to come back on ''late''

• I hurriedly put on my clothes & witht the rickety battery I had, I left the house ''late''

• Tried kick-starting the motorbike but it didn't start, had to push it all the way across to the petrol station. Petrol station had a long queue & everyone seemed ''late''

• I said fuck it, parked my motorbike in a parking lot right there, decided to call the cab and the goddamn cab company executives picked up their phone ''late''

• Now having waited ages for them to pick the call, they now said there was some cab strike

• I tried to flag rickshaws, they were either full or the empty ones cane ''late'' and when asked to drive me to the destination the common reply was 'no sir, I don't go there' or just a nod to say no

• I cursed fuck em and hitched a ride on a jam-packed bus filled with people, The stench of human perspiration was choking my breath. However the bus stopped in all stops situated a few metres apart from each other whilst taking a long route. I couldn't get out due to the immense crowd. The bus finally reached the destination, but reached ''late''

• When i reached my destination thoroughly drenched with sweat and exhausted to the core. I found the seat empty and she wasn't there. I thought she was pissed with me and left. With the remaining little battery I had on my phone, I called her bracing for the angry impact for calling her ''late''

• She picked up the call and said ''Sorry kats, I might be LATE''.

The Letter

Based on a true story ....

The drops of rain relentlessly battered the glass windows & the tin roof, a constant symphony & cacophony alike. Water slowly seeping down made the world look slow & trippy, like the desert heat melting away & the sweet aroma of wet mud adding that phantasmagoria in him. Sat next to the window was he looking at the rain. The rain was wasting its time trying to ebb his thinking off his wandering fascination. If you traced a way through his lost eyes into his skull & inside that sticky, slimy grey matter you'd know that today was the day of happiness. A day he'd been waiting for all month. The day he'd get a glimpse of a different world, the day the letter would arrive.

He was quite young for his age, in the initial phases of adolescence. Incarcerated within high walls & more so within the strict rules of the residential school.. he was after all another dog in the manger. Life was as tough as it was exciting. It had been months since he'd been out of those high walls. The last time he'd jumped to watch a movie & he got caught. As a punishment, his head was shaved, his food rationed & all his leave cancelled for the whole year. The only salvation for him now would be a taste of the outside world.. a glimpse of his angel. Of his best friend who stayed very far away from him & yet strangely enough, was wandering in his heart & thoughts all day long. The helping hand when he'd lost a battle. The lending invisible shoulder when he felt asleep, the divine fingers that shut his eye every time a single tear dripped past his cheeks. She'd promised to write him like she did all the time & today was the day that letter would arrive. His thoughts were thus indeed elsewhere.

Through the window of his barracks, through the foggy glass & the pelting rain, he could make out the familiar brown shadow. Someone cycling down the road towards him. For once he knew that it would be postman chacha. Bursting with exuberism & excitement he bolted towards the entrance, only to find the school bully on the cycle with his letter in hand teasing him & cycling away at speed. It was then he ran, he ran in the rain dripping wet. His shoes & toes not caring about squishing any puddles or any frogs around. His heart racing faster than his fit of rage & his legs synchronising with his anger. He managed to catch up with the bully & he fought tooth & nail with the bully, punching, kicking, biting, scratching wherever possible. After a bitter battle of raining blow after blow & bruises all over his face he managed to win the battle while the bully fled.

As he looked down the road, the letter was shred to pieces by the bully & lying on the wet road scattered. He took his time, gathered each bit piece by piece. Took the letter & dressed it even before dressing his own wounds. It hurt like hell but yet he pieced the letter together like a jigsaw puzzle. Bit by bit joined by tape. The joy of reading that letter was far greater than the pain endured for possessing it. He smiled & tears streamed down his face, as relentlessly & as mercilessly as the rain.

The world outside is white & looks like a ghostly blanket in the glory of the moon's radiance. The tufts of snow slowly floating around the window sending me into a perpetual haze. It's a much better world now where everything's fair, where there is no wall to stop me or no rules to refrain me. In my hand is that devastated sheet of a letter. I can still smell the fragrance of her on it. Rivulets of tears are slowly streaming down my cheeks as mercilessly as the prevailing cold & snow, the memories cloud my head. I wonder whose invisible fingers will I see now.