OH, BROTHER!!

I was beat up, torn and tattered but not broken. I scampered and limped my way back home through a route I’d been taking for the past 10 years. The walk was rather mechanical, like clockwork, with a predefined program running through my head, every pothole, every thorny bush, every hedge perfected, as one would expect over the years.

My head was swarming with thoughts of what had just happened. What the fuck just happened?

Did it shake me up? Fuck, yeah!

Was I going to take a step back? Fuck, no!

 As I said, I wasn’t broken. In fact, I was more resolved and resolute than ever. Mom was going to scream at me and freak out. My brother, Noel, was going to have a good laugh. Dad’s reactions in situations like these could never be predicted, he’d either have a good laugh or he would lunge at me and beat the shit out of me.

“What the hell happened to you?” Mom demanded, tugging at my torn shirt pocket which lay dangling precariously low. We were in my drawing room.

“Nothing, Ma!” I replied, through my cut lips.

“Did you get beaten up?” Mom asked, eyeing me suspiciously.

“No, Ma. I did not get beat up!” I said firmly.

Just then Noel rushed in, bursting through the door. The moment his eyes fell on my battered self, he paused momentarily, as though absorbing the image painted across in front of him. Having seen enough, he burst into a loud, cacophonous laugh.

“Oh shit, dude!” he exclaimed, clutching his stomach. “Were you run over by a steamroller or what?”

I scoffed, walked away from there to my room, took the bag off my shoulders and slammed it onto my hapless bed. That felt good! So I gripped my bag firmly by its shoulder straps and slammed my bag down again. And again. And again. I was unforgiving on my bag and my bed until my bag could take no more of this relentless pounding it was made to endure, the straps giving away in my fist. I grunted, shrugged and began to take off my torn clothes. What I needed was a nice, long and warm bath. I needed to cleanse myself emotionally and physically.

The moment the first drop of water hit me and trickled through my body, I laughed. And before I knew it, I was laughing so hard that I couldn’t figure out whether the fluid flowing down my cheeks was water from the shower or my tears. That’s when I knew that I had let it go.

SOMETIME IN JANUARY, 1999

It was a pleasant January morning and I was very excited. After all, a sports day in school comes just once every 365 days. It was our sports day that day, which, other than its usual implication, meant a lot of other things as well. It meant there weren’t going to be any classes. It meant we could go a little late to school. It meant the existence of a canteen which meant extra pocket money. It meant getting together with friends and having a good time, just to name a few. I was in the eighth grade and was at an age of raging hormones, high testosterone levels, puppy love and paper dolls.

Rohan, Anil and me had planned on going to school together and having some fun. Rohan was participating in a few athletic events while Anil and me, being the nerds, stayed out of it. I had woken up at 7, which was rather late by my standards. Mom had to literally push me out of bed for wouldn’t budge otherwise. I telephoned Saranya, my crush of over four years and asked her what her plans for the day were. To my austere disappointment, she had planned on taking the day off. No amount of coaxing, wooing or cajoling could deter her from her decision and I hung up with a heavy heart.

“Fuck!” I mumbled, under bated breath.

*******

“This is great news”, Anil said, biting into the sandwich Mom had made for us. “At least you won’t go wandering off!”

“Sure”, I replied, still crestfallen.

“It’s not like you were going to propose to her or anything, were you?” Rohan asked, taking a sip of his tea.

“No”, I smirked, stretching and emphasizing on the ‘no’. I think I overemphasized it!

Both my friends instantly stopped what they were doing and glared at me. Anil had his sandwich half inside his mouth while Rohan nearly choked on his hot cup of tea.

“What the fuck, Sam!” they cried in unison. “You were?”

I stayed mum.

“Holy shit, man!” Rohan yelled and burst into a raucous laugh. Anil soon joined him and the both of them had a good long laugh at my expense. Assholes!

“Anyway”, said Anil, wiping away his milk moustache with the back of his hand. “This means both Sam and I would be there to cheer you on in…..” Anil paused, thinking. “By the way, what exactly are you participating in?”

Rohan coughed, choking on his cup of tea for the second time in a few minutes. He looked at us incredulously. “And you call yourselves friends! Go figure, dipshits!”

It was funny indeed, and neither Anil nor I concealed our feelings as we laughed to our heart’s content.

All Rohan could do was gawk at us. And since I knew what he was participating in, I filled Anil in on it.

Five minutes later we were walking out of home, waving mom goodbye. Dad had given me a cool ₹100 after much coaxing.

“Why the fuck do you need hundred bucks?” he had demanded.

“Dad, you know me.” I replied, softly, “fifty’s never enough for my stomach!”

“You’ve got to keep your tummy in check, boy,” Dad went on. “You’re gonna fall sick someday!”

“Dad, please,” I said, not attempting to conceal my impatience. “I’m kinda running out of time. Are you going to give me the money or not!”

“It‘s always ‘gimme this..gimme that’ for you, isn’t it,” Dad ranted on relentlessly. “Always wanting things the easy way, not ready to work for it. Always….”

“DAD!” I cried, cutting him short rather rudely.

Dad glared at me so hard, I could feel his gaze slicing me vertically in half.

“Fine”, I said sighing, not wanting a hard hand falling across my face. “I’ll stay back home this weekend and study. No cricket, no tv and no novels!”

“Okay”, Dad replied, thoughtfully. “You have a deal, Neil!” He took out his wallet and handed me a ₹100 note.

“Damn, the sacrifices one had to make for a little extra pocket money!” I cursed under my breath.

The rest of the day went by rather uneventfully. Rohan, taking part in the 100m sprint and the long jump couldn’t even make it to the finals. In its own little way, that turned out to be a blessing in disguise with Rohan joining us for the rest of the day in our merry making. We checked out the different events taking place over different spots in our sprawling school campus. The main stadium was reserved for all the track events while the smaller grounds hosted the less interesting events like the hammer and discus throw, the long and high jump. The indoor stadium hosted the badminton competition and that was where we spent most of our time. We were keener on checking out the girls in their incredibly loose shorts and sweaty t-shirts than the game itself.

Every time a girl would jump high for an over head smash, we’d clap, scream and whistle as a consequence of the perversities of our minds. We’d keep doing this, regardless of the quality of the shot. At times we’d get a very disapproving and disdained look from a few of our teachers, but hey, it was our sports day! Who gave a flying fuck! And as a game progressed and the girls began to sweat, things got even more heated up and our whistles and claps grew louder. That was probably all the fun we had the whole day. By 3, we decided to call it a day and head back home.

I was a little low since Saranya hadn’t turned up and decided to head back alone through our school’s back gate while Anil and Rohan headed out through the main gate. We walked to our classrooms together, picked up our bags and waved each other goodbye. Being an eighth grader wasn’t easy, as most eighth graders would agree. We had, besides high testosterone levels, exceptionally high emotional levels too. I was no different. Not that I had any qualms spending time with my coolest buddies, but compare that to spending time with a girl and that shit’s completely different.

I hung my head low and dragged my feet as I walked out of school. I don’t know what happened but I decided to make one last pit stop at the canteen before I left. Not only was the canteen inside the indoor arena which happened to be on the way out, but I had, and still do have, the habit of eating every time I was low. I walked into the stadium and made my way across to the canteen, where I could see our seniors, the tenth graders, who ran the canteen, frantically working towards pulling down the shutters for the day. I ran towards them, hoping to get one last samosa or at least a laddoo.

As I stood over the counter, which was nothing more than our classroom desk, panting, seriously out of breath, a senior came up and said, “we’re done for the day.”

“No, you can’t be”, I said, still gasping for breath.

“Hey!” he retorted, rather rudely as he leaned over the desk menacingly. “I just said, we’re done for the day. Do you want me to explain that in a language you understand?”

“No”, I replied aloud, dejected. “I get it.”

I turned around and began retracing my steps out of there. Why the fuck do all seniors have to show off with violence?! So much for Om, Shanti, I suppose! Fuck!

Just as I was about to walk out of the arena, I heard someone call out to me: “Hey, you!”

I turned around to see the same senior waving his hand frantically, beckoning me. “Come here”, he seemed to say.

Excited at the prospect of getting that elusive samosa or laddoo, I sprinted back towards the canteen.

“Yes, sir!” I said, flashing the biggest grin I could muster.

“You wanted something right?” he asked, smiling.

“Yeah, I do”, I replied, thrilled. Oh, how I wish I could detect a fake smile.

“Come inside”, he said, beckoning me with his finger.

Getting inside a canteen brought unparalleled thrills to the prepubescent soul and boy, was I thrilled. It was like stepping into heaven!

I took my first step inside, my first step to doom.

I was called to the store room which was to the right of the entrance. The moment I stepped inside, I froze. I saw the only person I was dreading to bump into the whole day, Sandeep, Saranya’s elder brother. At close to 5’10” with broad shoulders and a deep heavy voice, he was an imposing figure. My throat dried up as I took a deep gulp of air and I had lost my voice. My legs began to wobble and I couldn’t seem to find them. Oh adrenaline! Where the fuck were you when I most needed you!

“So, Samvit”, Sandeep said, his voice reverberating across the tiny room. Not only did I tremble, but I could have sworn I heard the glass windows shake too. My mind too began to fuck with me. “You have a crush on Saranya, eh!” He was smiling, a cold, blood curdling smile.

“Hmm”, I managed to croak.

His smile faded and in one swift move, reached forward and grabbed me by my collar.

“Was that a ‘yes’?” He demanded, shaking me violently.

All I could manage was a sheepish nod of affirmation.

I saw a fist flying through the air and the next instant my head exploded in a dazzling display of stars and colours as a searing pain ripped across my face starting at my left cheek bone and spreading throughout my body as my glasses flew off my face. But Sandeep still had me by my collar, not loosening it even the slightest.

You know how they show people getting face punched in the movies in slo-mo? With ripples forming at the point of impact of the fist and the cheek, spreading across the entire face? I fucking swear to God, it’s all true. That’s exactly the shit that happens!

“Are you gonna leave her alone as of now?” He demanded shaking me violently yet again.

Having lost not just my voice, but my composure too, I nodded, this time, in the negative.

“No?” he stared at me in disbelief. By then, his buddies had joined us and I could see their fuzzy outlines at the corner of my watery eyes. They were laughing at egging Sandeep on.

“This little piece of shit just said ‘no’”, he seemed to be telling them. “What do we do with him?”

The next thing I remember was me lying on the floor, defending myself from a barrage or blows and kicks and then I remember someone pouring a bucket of water over my face. No, I wasn’t dead. No, I wasn’t beaten to pulp either, nor did I have any broken bones. I picked myself up and dusted my muddy shirt n trousers. My shirt pocket was torn and I had a few buttons ripped off too. I had a bloody and swollen lip and my glasses lay smashed in a corner. I looked as if I was the only survivor of the worst ever earthquake. I gathered myself together and walked out of the indoor arena.

I was beat up, torn and tattered but not broken. I scampered and limped my way back home through a route I’d been taking for the past 10 years. The walk was rather mechanical, like clockwork, with a predefined program running through my head, every pothole, every thorny bush, every hedge perfected, as one would expect over the years.

My head was swarming with thoughts of what had just happened. What the fuck just happened?

Did it shake me up? Fuck, yeah!

Was I going to take a step back? Fuck no!

 As I said, I wasn’t broken. In fact, I was more resolved and resolute than ever. Mom was going to scream at me and freak out. My brother, Noel, was going to have a good laugh. Dad’s reactions in situations like these could never be predicted, he’d either have a good laugh or he would lunge at me and beat the shit out of me.

“What the hell happened to you?” Mom demanded, tugging at my torn shirt pocket which lay dangling precariously low. We were in my drawing room.

“Nothing, Ma!” I replied, through my cut lips.

“Did you get beaten up?” Mom asked, eyeing me suspiciously.

“No, Ma. I did not get beat up!” I said firmly.

Just then Noel rushed in, bursting through the door. The moment his eyes fell on my battered self, he paused momentarily, as though absorbing the image painted across in front of him. Having seen enough, he burst into a loud, cacophonous laugh.

“Oh shit, dude!” he exclaimed, clutching his stomach. “Were you run over by a steamroller or what?”

I scoffed, walked away from there to my room, took the bag off my shoulders and slammed it onto my hapless bed. That felt good! So I gripped my bag firmly by its shoulder straps and slammed my bag down again. And again. And again. I was unforgiving on my bag and my bed until my bag could take no more of this relentless pounding it was made to endure, the straps giving away in my fist. I grunted, shrugged and began to take off my torn clothes. What I needed was a nice, long and warm bath. I needed to cleanse myself emotionally and physically.

The moment the first drop of water hit me and trickled through my body, I laughed. And before I knew it, I was laughing so hard that I couldn’t figure out whether the fluid flowing down my cheeks was water from the shower or my tears. That’s when I knew that I had let it go.

Xxxxxx

Ok, for the record, nothing ever materialized between me and Saranya. Yeah, that’s right. Got the shit beat out of me for nothing!

SOMETHING ABOUT THE THING..

Inspired by true events...

We were at Café Coffee Day on a hot and sultry afternoon, sipping on some cold coffee with cream and nibbling on some…ahem..ahem..wait for it…complimentary samosas. Yes, that’s right! I said complimentary! It’s my story, right? I say whatever in the sweet Lord’s name I want!! A writer’s license, if you may!

“I checked out your blog and it’s empty! What’s with that?” I asked her, confused.

“Well, yeah,” she replied, apprehensively, carefully choosing her words. “I’ve had it for quite a while, just that I haven’t found my thing!”

“Your what??” I coughed viciously, choking badly on my coffee, the confusion making way to bafflement.

“You know… My thing” she replied tentatively, not sure how to wipe the dazed and confused look off my face.

“Your thing?” I asked, puzzled, her reply not helping with my confusion.

“Yeah, Neil, that’s right! My thing!” She said, smiling.

Why the hell is she smiling? Oh God, does she think I understood her thing?

Wait! Is this some kind of mindfuck!?

“What thing!?” I asked, absolutely as lost as lost can be!

Wait, let me try and describe how lost I was. Picture yourself driving down a smooth highway through the desert with a map spread out in front of you. Now imagine out of nowhere a kangaroo, yeah you heard me, a fuckin’ kangaroo bounces in front of your car in an apparent suicide attempt, taking you by utter bafflement. You slam the brakes and swerve sharply violently to your right to avoid the hapless endangered creature and in the process, your map flies out of the window. As you realize to your horror what was happening, you stick you right hand out of the window to try and pluck the flying piece of paper out of thin air. But again, calamity strikes as your left wheel goes over a ginormous desert rock and you fail to control the car at such a speed, inclined at such a fucked up angle and that too with just one hand, your mind torn between salvaging the map and saving your ass. But it’s too late and your car swings monstrously to the right, its momentum carrying further off balance until it does a complete double somersault and slides forward a few meters before jerking to a halt in a huge cloud of dust, sand and smoke. But you have no idea what’s going on, having passed out during the first tumble itself when you head crashed onto the steering wheel. Now picture yourself waking up in a cabin by the river in the middle of a thick forest, surrounded by snow-capped mountains with not a soul in sight and a bandage wrapped around your bruised head. What the fuck, you ask yourself.

Now that’s how lost I was trying to figure her thing out!

“Oh come on, man!” She said, throwing her arms in the air in frustration. “Don’t you get it?! I’m talking about my thing!”

Ok, maybe this wasn’t a mindfuck!

I looked at her, squinting my eyes and scanning her from head to toe. “Ummmm…. Be a little specific here, sweetie, you’ve got plenty of things! What goddamn thing are you talking about?”

She glared at me in total disbelief, opening her mouth to say something but pausing before the words came out, as though unsure on what to say. “Aahhh…fuck this!” She cried, flailing her arms across her torso in abject vexation. “Screw my thing, man! There aint no thing!”

I smiled. “Damn straight there ain’t!”

She frowned and shook her head, dejection written all over her pretty face!

“Hey, don’t worry,” I chuckled and reached across the coffee table and rubbed her arm. “You don’t really need to have a thing to write. You can write anything you want!”

“No,” she shook her head again, still not over her frustration. “I’m looking for some kind of inspiration to write.”

“Inspiration?” I chuckled again. “You can find inspiration in anything and everything in your daily life.”

“Easy to say!” she retorted.

“Ok, well let me give you this,” I said, trying to give her some perspective. “Say you wake up in the morning and the moment your feet touch the ground, you realize that your slippers, which are usually always there, were missing. Your dazed and confused mind gets thrown off balance and you scrounge the room looking for your missing slippers. Where the fuck could they be? And then you spot them on the other side of the bed and you have absolutely no memory on how they ended up there. And then you gasp in horror as realization dawns upon you. Do you jaywalk? Do you have amnesia? Shit, do you have a stalker? What could it be? You don’t have a clue! Are you fucked? Or are you doomed!? Damn, this is good!!”

“Oh come on, man!” She replied as a smile crept up at the corner of her lips. “Don’t sensationalize things too much!”

“You see where I am getting with this?” I replied, grinning wide. “Okay, picture this. Mr. Douchebag comes along and he, in the words of the great Charlie Harper, is, in every sense of it, an ‘irksome irk’. He never fails to get your skin crawl, your blood boil and cringe everytime he approaches within a 10ft radius of wherever you are. You ‘spidey senses’ tingle and you know he’s somewhere close. You look around and lo and behold, there he is, to your left, gawking open mouthed at you. Yes, in case you were wondering, people still say ‘lo and behold’. You shudder in disgust. But, to your horror, he walks up to you before you could react and sneak away and says ‘hi’. You are courteous and reply with a polite ‘hi’. He tries chatting you up and even though your replies are monosyllabic, you just want to run. And in between all those ‘yes, Mr. Douche’s’,  ‘no Mr. Douche’s’ and ‘sure, Mr. Douche’s’, you feel a kind of unease at the pit of your stomach, which gradually climbs up your chest and onto your neck and you suddenly realize that you’re being strangled and you cough violently in search of air. You’re in a lot of pain, as though being stabbed by a million red hot knives in your stomach, in your chest, from behind and everywhere. All those mental filters are screaming at you, bellowing at you to get the fuck outta there if you wanna live. And you run! You could just write that you know!”

I paused momentarily to catch my breath.

 And now she was laughing, raucously and uncontrollably. Guffawing, rather, clutching her stomach as the laughter takes its toll on her abdominal muscles. “Damn, Neil!” She said, in between gasps for air, still gripping her stomach and laughing, tears streaming fiercely down her cheeks, “where do you come up with shit like this, huh? Do you really have to be so melodramatic?”

“Well,” I smiled, “all I’m trying to say is, don’t go in search of your THING. Let your THING come to you naturally!!! Once your THING comes, you'll know that your THING was someTHING that's actually noTHING at all and that it’s just a THING which has been a thing which you thought was something else!!”

I laughed to myself. Now what the fuck was that. I hope she doesn’t ask me to say that again coz there ain’t noway in fuck’s name I’m gonna be able to do that!!

She didn’t. As the laughter abruptly relinquished her and the smile on her face disappeared, all she could do was scratch her head and say, “uuuhhhhhhhh….”

WHAT WOMEN WANT...OR SOMETHING LIKE THAT!!

Disclaimer: this is a work of literary art with absolutely no references to any person, living, dead or undead. It has NOT been intentionally directed at any particular person either and if you are a girl and YOU feel a sense of deja vu while reading this, it would be purely coincidental and I request you NOT to sue me coz I really don’t want to go to jail.

“Let’s just be friends!” she said, feigning apologetic alacrity, as though that was even possible!!!

Isn't that the shallowest, most ruthless, selfish, gut wrenching, hideous, and THE MOST INSULTING crack on the nuts kind of remark you have ever heard?

Primarily, this translates to, "sweetheart, you were nice. You really were. But I just upgraded to a bigger and better model. But would you be darling and wait on the bench, you know, as backup? Just in case, that is."

Just in case, my ass!! It's like having been given a consolation prize for being a LOSER.

Well… The answer is... NO…. wait, let me rephrase that. The answer is, HELL NO!!

You can't be "just friends" with her. Why, you ask? Well, because she has toyed with you and dumped you for something like a Lamborghini or an iPhone 5 for starters. Because she has wasted hours and hours of your life making you listen to her, sweet talking about you and your relationship, what you mean to her, planning on having babies together,  bitching about every god damn thing in this world and basically having made you a sucker for her.

And then there are those long walks. AAARRRGGHHHH!!!! What the hell were those all about, haan?? She didn't even lose any weight. In fact, her ass just kept getting bigger and bigger and BIGGER!!! And all your money that she so ruthlessly squandered on those countless tequila sunrises and death by chocolates and INOX tickets.

I just wish there was a brain mapping gadget which when connected to the brain tells you exactly what her train of thoughts are. Perhaps even an app! (All you app developers, are you listening? HELLOOOO!!!) Something which could tell us lesser mortals exactly what the fuck women think when they say shit like this!! Whether the words are coming out of their mouths or their asses!!

Of course, in the words of Henry Higgins from Pygmalion, "Thinking is something they never do." But surely, they MUST have a conscience.

The "just friends" thing also means that YOU get to be the one to whom she bitches about her boyfriend. And YOU get to be the one she pings when she's super bored and her boyfriend won't listen to her brainless jibber jabber. And YOU get to be the one to whom she says, “You’re the perfect guy for any girl!” Wait, what? Are you saying that you’re not girl? Or am I like your gay best friend or something!!!

 But, hold it! Hang on a sec!! There's a corollary to this deal too.

"If, by 30 I'm not married and not seeing anyone else, we should get married," she suggests, in an attempt to douse the raging inferno.

Man, it's like saying, "Why don't you warm the bench up while I try and play the field."

Women know very well that if they don't find a rich idiot to suck dry by 30, they never will. And at 30, she stops being a babe and becomes a BEBE. So guys will not hit on her anymore. And YOU, yes YOU, lucky Sir, get to be the backup drive!!!

Of course, if you end up with a "Friends with benefits" sort of a deal, that's not half as bad. But that's about the farthest one should go.

But being "just friends"?? Take my advice and RUN....RUN FOR YOUR LIFE!!

Or you could go watch an SRK film instead. It's less painful.

UNFINISHED BUSINESS

This is a little story i wrote for a short story competition which unfortunately didn't get published.....nonetheless, I figured why discard it when I can post it here. Anyway, hope you have fun reading it! The theme is that of a telephone with it's receiver off the hook.


“I knew you’d still be here,” Rahul Chatterjee said, looking straight into Neel Banerjee’s pale eyes.

 

“It’s good to see you, buddy,” Neel replied smiling.

 

Rahul chuckled. “It’s good to see you too, man. Do you have any idea what happened to you?”

 

Neel sighed heavily. “Yes I do, Rahul,” he replied, shaking his head despondently. “I was shot in the head by some son of a gun who happened to do despicable things to Abhinanda.” He grit his teeth in suppressed indignation.

 

“Yes, you were,” Rahul agreed. “If only you knew who that jerk was. We could have taken him down together.”

 

“Yes,” Neel replied, sighing yet again. “I don’t know what I’m still doing in this world, though. By the way, Rahul, I didn’t know you could summon spirits.” Neel sniggered, covering his mouth with his hand.

 

“Well, you know,” Rahul replied, his face flushed in embarrassment. “There’s nothing much one can do when he’s all alone. I ended up learning stuff like these off the internet and from a few books by respectable people in the field. Not the wisest thing in the world, I know. But hey, I’m not complaining! I got to see you again.”

 

This time Neel burst out laughing. “You sure as hell did, man! And ain’t I glad you learnt this crap! God be merciful!” Neel clutched his stomach as his cachinnation took its toll on his abdominal muscles.

 

Rahul joined in the merriment, guffawing loudly. “Yeah man, me too!” Mellowing down to just a titter, he continued. “So what exactly happened that day? I mean, I know this is hard, buddy, but I do have a right to know. Don’t you think so?”

 

“Of course, man!” Neel replied, punching Rahul gently on his arm. “We’ve known each other since school and so, by default, you have every right to know.”

 

“By default!” Rahul repeated, suppressing a giggle. “That’s your favourite phrase! Good to see you still using it.”

 

“Yeah,” Neel said, sighing. “I was just pulling up into the driveway when my headlights fell on my partially open front door. That was something strange since Abhi never anything like that. She’s one of the most meticulous and methodical people I’ve ever come across. She’d never leave an unwanted bulb burning nor would she ever keep her cup of tea on the tea table without a coaster under the cup. If you remember our school days, it was Abhi who had busted us, smoking behind the bushes just outside our campus.”

 

Rahul chuckled. “Do you remember the chiding we got from her after that?” Rahul’s eyes were oblivious, lost in the reminiscence of a very treasured childhood.

 

Neel paused momentarily; he too, lost in reverie. “Yeah, I swore to give up smoking after that, which I did,” Neel stopped. “Wait! We’re drifting here. I was talking about that unfortunate day.

 

“Anyway,” Neel went on, “so I dint bother pulling up into the garage. I left the car in the driveway and walked in through the front door. Most of the lights were off, which wasn’t surprising. There was a golden hue thrown about the sitting room from the two bulbs burning from the overhead chandelier. The kitchen, dining room and the guest bedroom lights were all off. I could hear the faint creaking of the wooden floors above me, as if someone was walking stealthily, trying to be as hush as possible. I picked up the poker by the fire place and gripping it tightly with both my hands, I crept up the stairs.

“The master bedroom door was slightly ajar,” Neel continued. “I gripped the poker even tighter and pushed the door open slowly with my foot. It was dark inside and my gaze fell on a lump on the bed. Abhi wouldn’t go to bed without us having dinner, I thought. Maybe she was sick, I felt, but then again, she would have called. I took my shoes off, to avoid the unnecessary clattering of the heels on the wooden flooring, and stepped inside gingerly, trying to prune as much of noise as possible. Holding the poker high above my shoulder, ready to strike at any instant, I made my way to the bed.”

 

Neel stiffened as his mind went back to that dreadful image which greeted him.

 

“Was it Abhi?” Rahul asked, breaking Neel’s thoughts.

 

“Oh, it was Abhi alright.” Neel explained, his voice quivering. “She was lying in bed in a spread eagle posture, he clothes tattered. She was nude waist down and there were scratches, bruises and lacerations all over her body. I gasped as I looked at her face, fearing the worst. Her eyes were open staring at the ceiling in an expression mixed with fear, mendicancy and shock. The area around her neck had turned a bluish purple, having been strangled to death. I cringed. I wanted to scream, but I had lost my voice somewhere in the agony and despair. I felt as if my life and my soul had been sucked out of me, seeing my precious Abhi lying like that. I felt hopeless, not being able to be there for the love of my life, my precious pearl, my soul mate.

“I looked around hoping to find some clue, my poker still raised high. I searched the bed; Nothing. I looked under; nothing. I ran towards the balcony, overlooking our courtyard; nothing. I was sweating profusely and I could feel my sanity slowly ebbing away. I was mumbling incoherently and was scavenging my bedroom aimlessly when I felt some kind of movement ahead of me. I looked up from where I was standing and saw a tall, well build man in a ski mask. I brought my poker back, ready to take a wild swing at the perpetrator when I heard the deafening bang of a gun going off. The next thing I remember is me standing over my own dead body, staring at the gaping bullet hole smack in between my eyes. It felt weird watching my own body sprawled across the floor with blood pooling up under my head.”

 

“And it was weird seeing you stand over your own body,” Rahul interjected, interrupting Neel.

 

A deafening silence followed.

 

Neel stared hard at Rahul, in stunned silence, trying to decipher what he had just heard. “Wha…what?” he stuttered.

 

“Stop mumbling,” Rahul snapped. “I’m now going to give you your much needed closure, so that you can take the stairway to heaven.”

 

“Please, Rahul, for the love of God, tell me you’re lying,” Neel stammered.

 

Rahul sniggered and smirked. “I know Abhi was your best friend since school. I’ve seen the two of you grow up together, sit together on the same bench in class, share silent jokes, laugh silently. I knew what she was to you and yes, I knew what you were to her. Sitting in a corner and watching the two of you make merry used to make me seethe in anger. Even though I was surprised that she had turned you down when you asked her out, I couldn’t help but smile. Perhaps God is being nice on me, I thought. But you guys continued being in touch getting closer and closer, never realizing the blooming love between the two of you.”

 

Neel stood dumbfounded as Rahul went on.

 

“Things changed when you finally got a girlfriend, Chandni, who didn’t want you two to be in touch. Do you have any idea how shattered Abhi was? Do you have any idea what kind of crap you had put her through because of your puerile girlfriend? No, you don’t. But I was there for her, wiping away all her excruciating tears, lending her a condoling shoulder and cracking the odd joke you used to amuse her with. I was there for her, man, for over five years. Five freaking years! Five beautiful years. Five torturous years.

“Everything was washed away in a split second when you decided to call her up after you broke up with Chandni. It was all so convenient when the both of you realized that deep down inside, all these years, you really loved each other. As for me, all those mesmerizing memories, captivating moments and our intimate intimacies were flushed down the gutter, crumpled into a ball of paper and flung into oblivion. My heart felt trampled upon, as if someone had stomped on it repeatedly with his shoes. I let go, deciding to move on, giving time to work its magic on a broken heart. But when you guys got married, that was the final nail in the coffin. That did me in.”

 

Neel stood flabbergasted, unable to believe a single word his closest pal was uttering.

 

“I had your house keys and decided to pay Abhi a visit. I was gathering up the nerve to confront her after all these years, despite being neighbours. So, I took the spare key you had entrusted me with and walked in. I just wanted to talk, I swear.

“But the moment I saw her, fresh out of her bath with her wet hair held lose and her signature fragrance engulfing not the just the room, but my brain as well, something gave away in me. The smile on her face, her beautiful angelic smile, didn’t help either. I rushed towards her and grabbed her violently, sweeping her off her feet. I hustled her to the bedroom……”

 

“STOP,” Neel bellowed, his eyes a blazing red.

 

“….and before I knew it, she was dead,” Rahul persisted, brushing away a tear. “And you, I’m so sorry I shot you, man. I panicked. I didn’t mean to do it. And since I practice a bit of necromancy, I could see you standing over your own dead body. That’s when I knew I had to get out of there, invocate you, and release you from this world.”

 

Neel was stunned speechless. But he slowly began to fade, his body becoming more and more pellucid. He stuck his hand out, inspecting it, as it faded away into a clear mist. Following his hands, his legs, body and eventually, his head faded away into the very same clear mist.

 

May his soul, perpetually rest in peace now, Rahul thought. He checked every door and window. The lime chilly contraption hung decorously from every door and window frame.

 

What Rahul didn’t notice was that the telephone receiver had been tactfully knocked out of the hook.

 

xxxxxxxx

 

Late past midnight, Rahul, in his deep slumber, did not notice a mist emanating from the telephone receiver which lay off the hook.

 

Neel had very insightfully taken the receiver off the hook, in anticipation of the lime chilly contraption Rahul had hung up all over his house to ward off evil. The only way in would have been through the receiver.

 

Rahul did not feel nor notice Neel sitting beside him on his bed. He did not feel a spectral hand slide inside his chest cavity, nor did he feel that very hand slip around his beating heart, cradling it in its palm.

 

Neel looked at Rahul one last time, a look filled with repugnance, despair and incomprehension. He hung his head and shook it, dejectedly and he squeezed hard at the throbbing object in his hand. Rahul would have felt a sharp, seething pain searing through his torso before engulfing his entire body, as if being invaded by millions of red hot knives, slicing through every artery, vein and organ. He would soon gasp for air in vain. With the chemical activities in his brain all messed up, he would end up choking on his own vomit until he collapsed, dead.

 

Now, Neel’s soul could rest. He could finally go back to the place where the love of his life, his soul mate and his childhood sweetheart, Abhinanda Ganguly was waiting for him with that entrancing smile on her face.

 

A place where he would be a peace.

 

A place he called home.