Voices were rising. It was a motley group; strangers brought together against terrifying dangers in a lawless land. A lone child wailed, its worried father hushed it. The couple in love hugged each other, eyes brimming with unspoken promises of unity until the very end. The single traveller prayed silently, his eyes shutting out the fearful signs of what lay ahead. A dull whirring noise reminded them all of the surrounding danger. The monsters were whetting their appetites. Amid the chaos, a clear plan of action was needed, and quickly. They had to get across.
"The monsters await", he thought to himself grimly. "Listen up, everyone! We have to act quickly here. Timing is of the essence. Form three rows with the women and children in the middle."
Without hesitation, he dived into the procession of beasts. His reluctant yet somewhat inspired group followed suit. Nimbly, he weaved in and out of the path of danger and death. And so, the modern-day Moses led his followers through the Red Sea that couldn't be parted. On reaching the safe shore, he looked at his group with some pride.
Thankful faces looked back. And then, just as quickly as they had crossed the Basheerbagh Main Road, they dispersed into oblivion. The stream of vehicles continued to roar down the road, awaiting yet another group of pedestrians to battle.
She looked out of the window longingly. A free, moving world stared back with unabashed glee. The air inside was stifling. The stench of confinement was too much to bear, but this immobility was an integral part of her existence now. The bars on the windows gleamed in cruel mockery. Atleast they could feel the outside air. She sighed, as she often did on such mornings, gently, not disturbing the precarious balance of peace that hung in the silent air.
Surprisingly, time seldom crawled these days. She was getting used to becoming a cripple. A sliver of sunlight fell across the confinement chamber, until shadows steadily, but gradually edged it out. That's what life had become. Moments of light being pushed out by shadows - shadows that were strange and unfamiliar, that brought a sense of foreboding while pretending to be a soothing relief from the starkness of light. But the shadows seemed to burn through to her soul. Drops of perspiration started to amass all over her neck and forehead. The surroundings seemed to fuse into a melee of nameless, lifeless masses.
As her thoughts crawled from one point of insanity to another, something else was crawling up her leg. She looked down, but it was impossible to see without moving her head, and she had sacrificed her mobility a long while ago. She craned her neck as much as she could. For once, she wished she'd been shorter. Slowly, she saw it move up. A beastly creature, carrying with itself the essence of greed and grime. Evil eyes bulged out of an obscenely misshapen body.
She was sweating profusely now. The stench of captivity had nearly driven her insane; the impending attack a nightmare, waiting to break into reality.
"Cockroach!" she screamed.
The lady next to her brushed it off with her bag. The local train chugged into Andheri station. Light poured in. The silence burst into a cacophony of angry, eager, nervous, happy and supercilious voices. The exodus dragged her out. Crippled no more!
It was a typical Saturday night. The Planets were hanging out at the Milky Way Café, sharing a few laughs. (The Interplanetary Gravitation Law hadn’t been enacted yet)
“Everybody game for the fishing trip to Andromeda next week?” Saturn looked around expectantly.
Jupiter yawned, shifting his rather plus-sized bottom a little. “I’m ready. It’s been a hell of a year babysitting those asteroids. I wish I could afford another moon to take care of them.”
“A good moon is hard to come by these days.” Pluto nodded. “I have been looking for ages.”
A small sigh escaped from the armchair. They all turned to look, as a bouncy tear ricocheted off Mars’ ruddy face.
“It’s Venus again. She’s off with Mercuria on their shopping trip, leaving me to take care of the little one.”
A waitress came by with their coffee. Mars rubbed his teary eyes and pretended to be a red giant. The girl stifled a giggle and walked away.
Saturn looked away, slightly embarrassed. Mars had always been the
sentimental one. Millennia ago, at a party, Mars had gotten extremely
drunk and challenged a real red giant to a duel. It was, of course,
over a pretty Planette they’d just met.
At the decided time, sober and scared shitless, he dropped to his
knees, bawling like an asteroid. Luckily, the red giant had a sense of
humour. That’s when he'd earned the “God of War” sobriquet.
Venus and Mars had had a tumultuous relationship. After yet another drunken party and a malfunctioned prophylactic, they had been blessed with a child. Neither of them had been prepared for the responsibility, and the poor Planet kept getting tossed from one parent to the other.
“Bring him along!” Jupiter boomed.
Saturn frowned. He didn’t like the turn things were taking.
“Could I?” Mars looked up, lachrymose. Puffy eyes pleaded in hen-pecked pity.
“Oh all right, all right! But you have to manage him by yourself.”
And that is the story of how a little rock called Earth came to go on an intergalactic fishing trip. And the little fellow would have enjoyed himself too, had his absent-minded father not left him with the bait in the bait-basket. Only after returning did they realize that the slimy, fungus-covered, nit-infested ball of moss was the squeaky clean child they’d taken along.
The consequences were dramatic. Needless to say, Venus was furious.
The Planet Saviour Group filed a public interest suit against intergalactic travel, fishing, and use of unsterilized bait-baskets. And that was when the Solar Confinement System was created, and all the concerned parties were remanded to custody. Of course, they later called it the Solar System because the Planet Saviour Group filed another suit stating that the word ‘confinement’ implied a restriction of their planet rights.
Since then, Venus and Mars don’t see each other anymore. Little Earth has grown. The little nits multiplied boundlessly, stomping out most of the tinier nits and ticks. Now they even attempt to fly out to Lunar, Earth’s closest friend and companion. Wedding bells are expected soon.
There was no ambiguity in the message. Her cell phone screen blinked innocuously, unaffected by the gravity of the message.
Sender: Anonymous
Received: 8 November 2008, 00:56 a.m.
You are going to die at 1:00 a.m
It must be a joke. Micky must be up to his usual tricks. That boy was quite a handful. She walked over to the mirror, her hands automatically removing her earrings. They had grown accustomed to the routine. Things had been the same for the last five years. Of course, it took much more make-up now to cover the lines on her face. She stared at her reflection. She did seem a lot paler today. Maybe it was the stress. The merger with Gordon & Gordon was a huge deal for her. It would mean that she could finally retire and enjoy the fruits of her decades of hard labour. That is, of course if she survived the night. She smiled, and looked at the message again. A small shudder went down her spine, the smile narrowed just a bit.
00:57 a.m.
She poured herself a brandy. What if the message were a signal from the other world? A premonitory sms from her dead husband? What a hoot!
“The message doesn’t mention a date, anyhow”, she told herself. Her sense of humour hadn't dimmed at all.
But her hands shook just the tiniest bit as she sipped her drink. Maybe she should confront Micky. This was a bad joke, if at all. Then she remembered. He had left for Italy that same morning with his friends. Her memory was starting to fail too. She frowned, and dropped into the cozy armchair. This would have been her favourite part of the day, but that message had ruined everything.
00:58 a.m.
Maybe the message was a death threat. After all, she was a celebrity in her own right. She had stepped on quite a few toes to make it big, and they were powerful toes. Just thinking about it, she realized she didn’t fear death. She’d had a more fulfilling life than most people her age. She had been through poverty, lost her parents at the age of eighteen, survived two marriages and built a successful company from scratch. She’d even been named “Businesswoman of the year” twice in a row. That was more than anyone expected from the introverted, quiet child that she’d been. She had seen it all and more. Maybe it was time to go. Conflicting thoughts whirled around as she battled against her own sanity. Her only solace, the bottle, was half empty.
“That’s strange. It was nearly three-fourths empty yesterday.” Could she trust her memory?
00:59 a.m.
The brandy seemed stronger than usual too. But she wasn’t complaining. Her mind went back to a hazy rerun of her life, and clumsily arrived to the present. What unfinished business had she? Her company was being managed by the sharpest brains in the industry; her absence would certainly be felt, but the firm would manage to go on. The merger would have to be postponed till after the funeral, of course. Her secretaries would miss her, and some of her regular clients. But she'd be forgotten by the end of the year. The industry had far too much happening in its present to worry about the past, however glorious it may've been.
She had no family, except for Micky. That nephew of hers was more trouble than anything else, but he was the only family she had now. And it was clearly reflected in her will. Her considerable estate would be Micky’s to squander as he pleased. The very thought was unnerving. She refilled her glass to drown out the irritating thoughts.
The clock in the hall was ticking away the seconds. It had never seemed this loud before. She got up slowly, and teetered groggily towards the hall. This would be the ultimate test. She laughed, waiting to see if Ron had succeeded in messaging her from the other side. The second hand went on doing its job, oblivious of the great revelation it was about to make or not make.
01:00 a.m.
It swept right over twelve. She stood, a little dazed and extremely drunk, but nevertheless alive. The second hand continued ahead with nonchalance. She laughed again, almost disappointed. She could barely see now. That drink had been a tad too much. As she groped her way upstairs towards the bedroom, she saw a blinding white light. A searing pain ripped through her chest. She screamed out before crumpling down in a heap.
Miles away in Rome, a young lad looked at his watch and smiled.
Being married to her is a nightmare. I mean, she’s there when I go to sleep, when I wake up, when I pick my nose and when I put my feet up on the sofa. It’s like she has a crazy seventh sense, you know what I mean? She just knows when I am doing something that she doesn’t think I ought to be doing. And I still go on doing it, even though I know I’m going to get caught in the next ten nanoseconds. It is this nonsensical war, this irritating contest that keeps our marriage alive and probably many other marriages too.
But this morning was just one of those top-of-the-charts irritating ones. So I left one of the cupboards open. So what? It isn’t the lion’s cage in the zoo. And believe me, I wish it had been. It would have saved me a lot of listening. That’s another thing she harps on. Apparently, I don’t do enough of that. How do I explain to her that her voice is umm..well.. not as delicate as is convenient to be ignored? Anyway, I just grabbed my beer can and walked out of the room where the Voice was somewhat attenuated.
Hours of introspection on the sitting-room couch unveiled the only solution to my endless agony.
I had to kill her.
So now that the objective is lucid, how do I go about carrying it out? Shooting her would be too messy, smothering her with a pillow would be too difficult (she works out regularly), anthrax isn’t available at my chemists’ and poison may not be enough for all the venom inside her (I have now come to regard her as some sort of modern-day Medusa, albeit with well-conditioned hair). A SWOT analysis of each of these options reveals that poison administered with her evening tea is the best way out.
Medusa must die.
It is a bright Sunday afternoon. The next week is forecast to be sunny. Too bad Medusa won’t enjoy it. I don’t really feel guilty. I see myself more as a hero, the Perseus who is going to rid this world of her; a hero who is going to taste his sweetest freedom in years. A week of summer joys – golf with the guys, midday naps, beer for lunch! Of course I’d have to wait till the funeral’s over, to avoid suspicion.
The Voice shouts from upstairs and I snap back to reality. The kitchen is empty, Medusa is vacuuming the bedrooms. The teapot is on the stove. I carefully empty the contents of an extra-strong roach-kill into it. And get back to my beer and my couch.
It’s almost tea time. I rub my hands in glee as she walks in with her cup of tea and a glass of juice for me. Everything seems to be moving extra slowly. I see her raising her cup to her lips, taking a long first sip.
Her brows furrow. “This tea is awfully strong.” She smiles and takes another sip. The process seems to last forever. The anticipation is agonizing. I gulp down my juice, hoping that will somehow make her drink the tea faster.
She’s finally done. She walks to the kitchen sink. “I think I’m a little tired, dear. We will have to eat leftovers for dinner again, I’m afraid.” The words are apologetic, the tone isn’t. Medusa hasn’t lost her edge, even on the verge of death. I look on, as she trudges up to the bedroom. She is moving slower than usual. Maybe the poison takes time to kick in.
I doze off on the couch, planning the funeral.
“I think I will manage a casserole.” Is it the Voice, or am I dreaming? No! There she is, setting the table for dinner.
“Are you feeling less tired, my dear?” I squawk out in a helpless burst.
“Never felt better. Mother called. She will be visiting next week. I told her you'll show her around.”
Perseus has met his match.
I rush to the garage, looking for another packet of that roach-kill. It’s for me this time. No poison is strong enough for Medusa.
The wise investor stays out of it all
I don't know. But my entire household went into a tizzy. Pa's normal disposition was the verge of a depression - now he was teetering on the edge.. Ma went into a solemn mourning, the kind last seen when the family dog was put to sleep a decade back. This however, had nothing to do with the markets. I just thought that was a pretty neat topic to begin with. The real tragedy was, that our television had crashed.
Ever since my brother and I moved out, my parents found their child in our battered old TV. They could crib about how decadent TV had become, fight with each other over who gets custody of the remote control and generally pronounce judgements on how no-good it was. It was now an integral part of their lives. Pa needed his daily dose of inane jokes and people-falling-over-each-other sitcoms while Ma made do with reruns of Lost and Heroes.
Unfortunately, the mechanic wasn't available for two days and the bereaved twosome turned telly teetotalers for the weekend. It wasn't that difficult, actually. They went for walks, caught up with old friends, read Dickens and went out. But after an hour and a half of all this, the withdrawal symptoms hit, and hit hard.
There was an uneasy still in the air. It was oppressive, stifling.
Time crawled.
The clock in the hallway could be heard ticking reluctantly, a hoarse 'prack' piercing the ominous air now and then.
Outside, a crow cawed.
Inside, the twosome stood in silence.
And then she smiled. She crossed over to the other side of the room, where episodes of Lost were lying downloaded on the desktop computer. He pulled up a chair beside her. Thank God for P2P!
Too bad we can't play reruns of the stock markets, though.
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Pratik Patki said:
[c’est top]IRIS u are the lord of twists to the tales!!!! :):) lovely read more
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sushmita said:
[this is good]Bravo!! You've inspired me to re-enter Vox!! P.S. : "Planette" - That's an awesome one :) read more
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Pratik Patki said:
[c’est top]This is such an awesome pic... just the view i wld love to have from my house :) read more
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Pratik Patki said:
[c’est top]Wats with the obsession with murders though?? ;) again a good one!! read more
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