The moment…

I was going along

Humming my own song

Smiling at the smiles

Avoiding voids

When I saw…

She did not smile

React or notice

Her blank eyes stayed

Vaguely on a distant horizon

Her long silken hair

Bounced in rhythm

With her sure steps

As the distance melted

I lost focus and fumbled

But I discovered the reason

Entirely on my own

The secret that Mona Lisa’s smile holds

The moment froze…

I failed to notice

How many people

Like ghosts

Crossed the space between us

Without breaking my thought

Without breaking her thought

And.. in the meanwhile

The moment passed…

I kept walking

She kept walking

Till we passed each other

And passed the moment…

We stumbled back to our course

And carried on

Where were going along

Our own paths

Staying on our course

Humming our own my own tune

Message for the heart

She was much in a hurry

Going straight ahead

Without looking right or left

Zooming through trees

Clipping and dropping leafs

That plummeted down with a brief grief

She was too fast for me too

But I caught up with her somehow

“Why such a hurry?

I have a genuine inquiry

Tell me what is the problem

Is there someone with loaded gun?”

I prodded her again,

“Where are you going?”

“I am a messenger”

She squeaked in anger

“Of a man in white turban

For a woman in blue gown

Walking the path right down”

“A very private message?”

I said with a naughty smile

She said hurriedly, ‘of course’,

In her menacing style

“I left turbaned man’s gun

To hit the head of that woman!”

Words fail me

I sat down to write…

As her memories

And my anxieties

Had started choking me

I placed on the desk a blank sheet of paper

Picked the pen up and guided it over

Even before I could write a word

My heart jumped out and sat on the paper

But now I was thinking hard

About the words

That will replace my heart

Will express my feelings

Which my heart was screaming

What my life was missing

How I suffered suffocation, irritation,

Worries difficulties botherations

Now it was hurting as my neck remained craned

Words didn’t emerge in my non-functional brain

In despair, I placed the pen in the slot

And shut the inkpot

My eyes were welling up

And tears were rolling down

Traveling my cheeks

And jumping off in the end

Finding the blank paper to land

Forming an unshapely figure

Soon these figures filled entire paper

With a language that couldn’t be read

But my feelings?

My feeling were perfectly expressed

Tears had said it all

All that I couldn’t recall

Alas! Sadly

My words had failed me.

Not me..

I know.. I lost you eons ago

Or we lost each other

We took our own paths

No, in fact it was me.. just me

Who decided to go alone

On my own

It was because.. I had a path

I just left

And vanished without even looking back

I left as though I was dried up

Of emotions, sentiments, friendship

True, there were no promises to keep

No dates to seek

But still, just walking out

Without leaving any message

Address or a phone number

It must have been

So shocking for you

So unbelievable even to think

That I could do that

I could ‘be’ that

But I hope you believed it soon enough

That.. that was ‘not‘ me

It just couldn’t be me

It would be best for me

Not to be ‘me’

For you

In Love With Imagination

You are the one

In my thoughts

My vision

Perhaps, surely

You are a stranger certainly

But have always stayed inside me

Inside my mindscape

On my thought’s page

You may be something unsaid

But you are the poetry of my life

Silent movements of your lips

Are symphonies in my life

With my face on your bosom

I long for the comfort of your dark hair

And inhale the familiar fragrance

A figure emerges in my vision

Perhaps personification

Of a thought,

That has been around

For ever…

I remember

That dark part of the day

Tight grip of hands

But our looks away

Growing warmth and sweat

Hearts that beat together

Were to separate

This had to happen

I was in love with someone

Created by my Imagination

I think…

Future Steps in Present

I have been noticing that my present

Seems to be reducing its presence

As though a process of fading out

Of life in the present has started

Though an impossible situation

Fading out present!?

People, situations, conversations

Seem to be gradually getting distant

If not distant, exactly

Hazy and unclear; certainly

The things that were, right in front

Started moving towards unknown

As if a curtain is falling

Between me and them

Reducing visibility and hearing

I need to figure

Why does my sight get fogged

With color of brownish earth

And why do I hear the chirping birds

A large banyan tree appears

It’s beautiful shoots eagerly stretching down

As they look towards the ground

Hidden under numerous banyan shoots

Someone sits, quiet and aloof

Long hair, long beard, chest bare

Looking somewhere with a constant stare

With his eyes half shut

It was difficult to judge

The object in his vision

But he surely looked down

At bare earth or the ground

And then with a pleasant jolt

I discovered the source

Of that nagging brown layer;

In front of his relaxed constant stare

I was seeing what he saw there

I know, it is impossible; but it is here

Eternal Wait

A nearly deserted lane

A barber shop in the shanty

Of that lane

Young barber is on the edge of his shop

He reads a newspaper

We don’t know if he is reading

We also don’t know if the paper is recent

Or even upside down

Like a hawk, his eyes dart left to right

Then right to left, swiftly

And then rest back on the news paper

He is not reading the paper

He can’t be

He is merely there

On the edge of his shop

On the edge of his life

On the edge

He is waiting

Waiting for an elusive customer

To come in

And stare at the mirror casually

Move his fingers through his thick growth

And… ask for a haircut

Or a shave, at least

Barber does not budge

He is like a tiger in the wild

He has to shave someone

Shave off a few rupees from someone

He lowers the newspaper a bit

To search for someone scratching his beard

Or a hero looking boy with long hair

Soon he has to spot such a kill

Who might occupy his empty chair

And he knows it best

Waiting is not easy

He wipes the mirror

Dusts the chair

Then goes back to the hunting point

He is tense

His body is getting tight

Worst of all he is helpless

At the back of the shop

Hangs a brown, grimy gunny bag curtain

On the other side of gunny bag curtain

A female skeleton is leaning on a frail wall

Little girl is scribbling on a note book

Her school fees has to be paid

A baby is squirming in skeleton’s lap

He cries suckling the hanging breast

Utensils are empty

Stove is cold

Life is on hold

On both sides of the brown, grimy, sad,

Gunny bag curtain

Barber fakes reading newspaper

To hell and back

Around 11am Ramesh was called in the cabin of manager Srivastav ji. Whenever this happens most people become alert wondering about reason of the meeting. It could be bad sales, complains about product or sometimes even a new order. Bad sales could mean delay in salary or even pay cut. Product complains means someone has to be sent to the factory to inform them, which is a horrible job. There no one listens to you and you come back with message that ‘message has been conveyed’. Ramesh emerged after 15 min with the hint of a smile. Everyone reacted to that and wanted a piece of good news.

“A new company in Shahjahanpur has decided to purchase 120 chairs and 20 tables from us.”

A wave of happiness spread among all 11 people. Lata gave a look to Ramesh and a thumb up. She asked quietly when do you leave. He showed his stop palm meaning, wait, will tell. Just then the phone rang. Peon Tripathi picked it, ”Ramesh ji, for you”.

Yes! Who is that? I see… After so long. Where are you? Hmm… I don’t think it will be possible. I need to be home by 6.30 after office. Mother is old and unwell. I… frankly it’s very difficult… I know that big hut. I have also heard about Lala ji… this is embarrassing… okay… so today bus depot 8pm.

When he placed the receiver down Ramesh was visibly tense and sweaty. He headed to the washroom. After he shut the door he clutched his head and waited for a bit, then rested his head on side wall. My god! How the hell did he appear again?

He knew Satish from college days. He was a very tricky person. Not violent but almost dangerous. Because of this Ramesh barely spoke to him. He would borrow money from anyone and not return it. Then threaten the person. Perhaps he was looking for short cuts to success. Satish also had tried his luck in getting friendly with Ramesh’s sister Pushpa. He borrowed a cycle once and returned it after 3 days…

After Ramesh left the office, he started walking in opposite direction. Lata asked,  “what has happened, why aren’t you going home?”

“I have to meet someone at bus stop at 8.”

“8! Who will inform you mother. She will be so worried!”

“I know. But can’t help. It’s an old friend.”

“I can take a detour and inform them if you want.”

“Can you do that? I hope it doesn’t put you in trouble in your own house?”

They parted. Both wore extremely worried look.

He purposely walked slowly. Bus stop was hardly 15 min away. But at this time that area starts getting deserted. Bus stop appeared. A bus was idling. Conductor was waving people to get in fast. He reached the place. The bus drove off, leaving a translucent mountain of dust. He noticed the hazy light of cigarette shop through it. Waving his hand in front of this face he reached the shop. Half an hour to go! He remembered he had refused a smoke earlier in the day, but now it is required for two reasons, one is to wait for a person who he hates and second to kill the killing tension.

“Four square small”. How expensive these are! But there are people who carry packets of them. He lit it with the end of a hanging rope, dragged once, looked around; country liquor bar came in his vision. He walked up, looked inside casually through the torn curtain. How in the hell people drink the stuff which smells so foul! He looked at his watch. Still 10 min to go. He walked back to cigarette shop and asked the man, “does the last Saharanpur bus come in time.” Man started with, ‘hmm’ and was getting into the mood of starting a chapter to explain it. Ramesh walked away.

He saw approaching lights of a bus. Kids selling snacks got active with their wares. He came to know the bus goes back after 20 min. So he realized that would be the maximum time he will have to tolerate Satish. But it was already so late. He thought he will stand and talk near this shop only. In case he plays foul; people can see. Bus stopped. Soon Satish emerged. He recognized him after so many years. He had to, because all others looked simple people. He got off with a flourish. Panned his look and found Ramesh. He walked briskly to him, “come” and moved as briskly to the bar. He walked in smoothly, as though he is a regular. Ramesh thought about the idea he just had about the bar. Satish pulled him inside by the hand and took an empty table, got it cleaned and ordered, “two ilaichi with soda.” I am not having”, Ramesh protested sharply. “don’t worry. I am there na. I will need it for my return journey. One limca”. He told waiter. After his first sip he relaxed. Ramesh asked him, what did he want. “Wait”. He said. After cold drink arrived and waiter left, he leaned forward and said, “I need a packet to be delivered to Lala ji. The one who lives in the big hut at the end of Teli lane.”

“Packet? What’s in the packet?” Ramesh had to be very alert. He knew he could get entangled in some very undesirable situations.

“Nothing big. My company owes him some chemical material for a process. I will pick up the product myself when it is ready.” He opened his brief-case and took out a palm size packet wrapped seriously in brown paper, then packaging tape. Few rubber bands also crisscrossed the packet.

“Looks like wad of money to me.” Ramesh said.

“If it was money I wouldn’t give it to anyone to deliver.”

He gulped his drinks and Ramesh emptied Limca. Satish paid at the counter and outside they parted. Ramesh bought some peanuts for his walk home. Soon bus reversed and started its journey.

In a while, he decided it was too late to deliver the packet to Lalaji at this time, although it was on the way. He should be going home soon. He was eating peanuts and thinking, what to do. Should he give it now or tomorrow? Then he realized crookedness of Satish. No, I wouldn’t like to take this damn packet home. Mom will ask hundred questions and hearing Satish’s name she will freak out. It’s already late, so might as well…

He started towards the hut. Outside a long haired man sat quietly. He wore a shirt that was perhaps a bed-sheet earlier. It had huge checks. He was sitting on a bound heap of garbage. There were more such heaps all around. Hesitantly Ramesh reached, stopped and approached him. Man became alert. He looked at him with questioning eyes.

“Lala ji? Have to meet Lala ji. Is he in?”

“You want to meet him? No body meets him just like that. What do you want?”

“I don’t want anything. Satish has given a parcel for him.”

“Who Satish?”

“From Saharanpur. I met him at the bus stop.”

“Wait here.” Man got up from the garbage heap. He himself seemed garbage personified. He had a heavy limp. Ramesh thought he was like Shakuni Mama. Oh god, so he too is crooked! Man parted the layers of heavy gunny bag curtain and entered. Ramesh could see little of inside the hut as there was a bright bulb. But things were kept systematically, not like outside. Then the curtain fell. Ramesh finished packet of peanuts and tossed it aside, contribution to garbage, he thought.

Soon the limping man emerged, “do you have any message or any other thing?”

“No. Nothing.”

“You can go. He will get in touch with him.”

“I want emphasize that I have nothing to do with Satish. I just helped him to deliver this parcel.”

He reached home to two desperately worried women. His mother without asking any question served him food. Pushpa got a glass of water. After washing up he sat down. “Don’t ask anything. We will talk tomorrow.”

In the morning he did not give anyone a chance to talk and cycled quickly to the office. He was bit early. Staff started coming in. Soon all were inside. Srivastav ji also entered and sat in his cabin. Peon gave him a glass of water and newspaper. He received a call on his personal number. His face changed. He pointed to Lata to come in with her assistant. As she went in, he asked her to sit. She said it was fine. He disconnected the phone and said urgently, “pick-up your shooting equipment and crew. There has been a blast nearby. In fact in Teli lane. Go and get as much footage as possible from all angles… I mean you know all that. Our news agency has called. They heard about it from their own sources. We can get a lot of benefits if we send them exciting footage.”

“Yes sir of course.” And she came out of the cabin. Ramesh hinted, “What happened?” She showed him the stop sign as though she was in a tearing hurry. She picked up all the equipment and left.

Now the part below here has been ‘reproduced’ painstakingly from my memory. I just did not feel like writing all this all over again. But somehow I dragged myself to it. Moreover there was someone who really wanted to see how it ends and that made the reason strong enough to take it to its logical end.

In a minute Srivastav ji came out and said, “Lata has gone out urgently to shoot a story in Teli lane. There was big blast there.” Ramesh’s jaw dropped and heart sank down to the depth of hell, “Oh my god!” Everyone else wondered, how come a blast in this sleepy town! Who is so important or rich to be blown up? From this insignificant area if anything would appear on TV was, only when Neelkamal Ad Company sends their video report. This is the only company that does it.

At the blast site the big hut had been completely blown into tiny bits. Both the persons had died. Body of Lala ji was in shambles and man with bed-sheet shirt was lying up aide down. Ambulance staff was preparing to take them away. A police party was working, clicking pictures of various suspicious articles. Officer asked them to not come closer or enter right inside the hut, in case there is another charge. Gradually crowd from locality collected. They started questioning.

“Where do you stay? Did you hear the blast?”

“I stay at the other end of the lane. I heard a big sound, but did not know what it was. I thought some truck might have dumped coal in the iron factory. They keep doing that.”

Chai wala appeared from the close-by stall and started offering tea to cops. Sirens were heard and police officer dispersed everybody away. A senior officer was expected from the head quarter. Police jeep stopped near the crowd. Someone shouted everyone to get back. Cops looked at the destruction and perhaps made mental notes.

They might have got a lead on the gangs operating from another state and Lala ji was on their radar as assembler of crude bombs. Soon all the action got over. All inquiries by cops ended. Lata was shooting all this continuously. She went on the roof of opposite house and panned the camera across entire area to get all the details. In the end of the shot camera caught a crumpled paper that Ramesh had chucked, before he spoke to the man outside the hut.

After lunch Srivastav ji wanted to view entire footage before sending it off to agency. They were making a copy to send. Everyone’s eyes were glued to the monitor. As soon as Ramesh saw the peanut packet, he was shocked and ran to the washroom. Lata was surprised at his sudden action. But she kept her mind on work.

Ramesh shut the door and puked instantly. He was feeling shattered. What now! These people are sleuths. They will find everything. They will pick that paper and figure from where it came. At 9pm very few shops are open. That will lead them to bus depot. The cigarette shop will identify him… God! Oh my god! Nothing is left for him to look forward to. Life with Lata, his mother and sister! When they will know that he delivered that bomb to the big hut!

Office door opened and two police men waked in. They had seen Lata shooting the blast location. They watched some of it and then said, “we will need a copy of this right now. It has to be sent to higher ups. Srivastav ji said, “It is still being done. I will bring it myself to police station.” Ramesh got extremely nervous knowing cops had entered the office. He stayed in the washroom holding the fittings to avoid collapsing. After cops left, he came out and tried to behave as normal as he could. Lata instantly knew there was something drastically wrong with Ramesh. After the copy completed Srivastav ji left to deliver it. Lata loaded another tape to make a copy for agency. While leaving Srivastav ji announced, he will be going home after this. It is quite late. And everyone should come tomorrow on time.

Lata told Ramesh, “You carry on home. I will take some time. Last night also you reached late.” He agreed, picked up his things but looked back at her from the door… he felt this might be the last time he is looking at her.

Work at office finished an hour later. After the copy was completed Lata called agency and walked out. Peon shut the door from inside. He would stay there today.

Ramesh kept usual light hearted conversations on with two women. They ate in time. Spoke little about the blast. He made it sound unimportant. So many bigger blasts happen all over. You forgot about Mumbai? What is this; nothing, in front of Mumbai.

Pan wala saw Ramesh walking to the office. But he felt there is something different about him today and didn’t call out to him. He pushed the door and entered. Around 10.30 everyone was there. Srivastav ji came out of the cabin and addressed everyone. “Late last night cops have arrested the real culprit. Their links are with someone on the border of Nepal. One man called Satish died of a crude bomb blast in Saharanpur.” Oh! Saharanpur? Thank God! Did Ramesh suddenly step on a cloud?

“Ramesh you are going to Shahjahanpur to execute that furniture order. You leave tomorrow by 9am bus, return same day. Here are your tickets. Lata you have to interview SP at the police station tomorrow at 11am.” He went back in the cabin.

Bus to Shahjahanpur was to leave in 5 min.

Ramesh has taken his window seat.

Lata is happily chatting with him.

In Teli gali the blast site had been cleared. Someone is sweeping the area. An insignificant crumpled paper was seen getting swept with other rubbish.

In original version Ramesh just sits in the bus; feeling very relieved, and a faint smile appears on his face.

Reason to smile

Ramesh is a simple, hard-working youth. He is a Marketing & Accounts Clerk in Neelkamal Ad Co, Rampur. He makes very little money, just enough to support himself and two more, the old and frail mother and a young sister. He wants to save enough for his sister Pushpa’s wedding. Three of them live in a simple home, and possess old and rusty things. They cook simple food and lead a very basic life. Only kind of expensive articles with the family are two bicycles.

Sick! Isn’t it? So boring. But I did try to add some spice in my language and tried to make the family’s financial situation more tragic. When people are younger and their entire life is ahead of them, that’s the time money should not fall short, for boys and perhaps more so for girls. Everyone young girl wants to dress up and look nice, go out once in a while, perhaps see a movie, have an outing with friends etc. But Ramesh couldn’t afford to indulge at all:

Panwallah: saab finally today you want to spend one rupee on smoke?

Ramesh: Hmm I thought I may be getting some overtime in the office, so might as well relax a little.

Panwallah: very good idea. I know you do scrounge for the sake of didi’s marriage.  But sometime you should relax. How can one cigarette in two weeks harm your savings?

I have added a suspense angle in the story, when Ramesh is waiting for his worst friend at a bus stop at night. It was 8.15pm. Ramesh is always home by 6.30 and by 8 he is through with his dinner and sleeps off by 9.30, reading a book. But his unannounced delay had put his family in a deep state of worry:

“Subhash placed his briefcase on the table and looked around, then a second later he opened it. He withdrew a fat brown paper packet, its contents held toghether with two rubber bands. Ramesh could guess its contents only as a lot of papers. A glass of country liquor some Pakoras had arrived. He had a swig and offered him the Pakoras right into his nose. Ramesh found it quite aggressive, he picked one any ways. Subhash said, I want you to deliver this to Lalaji, of that big hut at the end of Teli lane. Ramesh was apprehensive. He hates Subhash and also had not heard good things about Lala.”

I hope I am able to really complete “Reason to smile”. Not that it’s a great story; but only that I started writing it in a very strange way. I had no plot in my mind, no characters and no idea about its genre, comedy, tragedy, love story or suspense… I just started punching the key board:

“Ramesh was walking to his office.”

Ok. Now what?

“He seemed a bit tense today. He was walking a bit more briskly than he usually did. He did not stop at the ‘paan wala’ and not even waved at him in usual daily namaskar Mishraji.”

Well it seems that Ramesh will be the lead character and he is tense right now. So, situations have to be created in the past that have made him tense in the present. Also the situations have to be good enough for him to ‘not’ turn towards his friends and wave at them. And more importantly they have to be strong enough to be included in the story. I was not in a mood of adding villains or fights with his family. So I decided to add that he received a phone call in the office and he went into his shell after that. I had no idea what the phone conversation was going to be:

“Phone rings. Peon picks it and points to Ramesh, “You have a call.” Lata and Ramesh both are confused. Who could be calling him on office number? Hesitating, he gets up and takes the receiver. Hello. His face distorts. He looks at heaven, stunned. He only listens. Then a yes, hmm, very difficult, it’s too far. I don’t even have a cycle today. Sweat appears on his forehead. Finally he says ok and hangs up.

“Who was that”, Lata asks.

“An old college friend”, he says.

“College friend, but then why are you so worried?”

I had introduced people in the office where Ramesh works. Lata was one of them. She and Ramesh are good friends, you know what I mean. Then I named the town the story is set in, Rampur. Now to match the small town Rampur, everything becomes small in size and status; office, business, people, their conversation, topics, salaries… but what doesn’t change are friendships and love, its intensity and spice that goes with it. Ramesh and Lata have been seeing each other without anyone seeing them, seeing each other. They have to work real hard to not bump into any familiar person around them. In a small town it is a near impossible task. But no one can fight what a young heart demands. A telephonic conversation between them is here as I end this last part of ‘Tragedy…’ with this:

Lata on phone, “is our evening plan still there?”

“Yes, 6.30, Mahatma Gandhi park.” Ramesh has called her from a public phone.

“Umm, but it is too bright at 6.30pm.”

“7.30 then?”

“Better. You know how this town is. Last Sunday we nearly bumped into the office peon in the park. It is not Bombay, you know.”

“Huh, as though you have been there. Listen should we try to take a bus a little out of town today?

“It will be too late to return.”

“That is true, it will be late. We could find the last bus time and go next time.”

“We can plan that when we meet now. See you then. By the way, are you wearing the shirt I gave you?’

“Yes, I am and are you wearing that what I gave you?”

“Shut up.”

Reason to smile? Hardly; but for a small town like this, may be.

Dangerous Methods

Part-3

Kirit Patel and Pratima are sitting in the backseat of a car. The car stopped at Patel&Patel’s head office and he got off. The car sped away with Pratima and soon Sandhya was sitting next to her. Car entered a very swanky gate of ‘Desai Cable World’. Pratima walked ahead and spoke to the reception. They were graciously asked to take a seat in the huge lobby. Glasses of water were placed on the gleaming glass table in front with a question, “tea, coffee or cold drink?” Sandhya wanted tea and looked at Pratima. She did not want anything. Sandhya noticed she looked off color.

“What happened? You don’t look too good.”

“Yes that deal that your husband wanted from us to give us the band of spectrum is troubling Kirit Patel a lot.”

“Why is it troubling?”

And Pratima gave her the explanation in detail, elaborating the technicalities making it impossible for their audit and accounts department to handle it. She added dramatically, “just imagine Vinod Natarajan blackmailed us to sell Patel&Patel’s shares to him at the rate of Re 1! That too one crore of them!”

Sandhya was shocked, “but your share in the market is more than 1000.”

“You are right. That is the main problem. We would have given him entire amount in cash, if he allowed us. We have done it in the past; but this time he was very unreasonable. He knows that it can’t be done and yet he pressurized us. And that is how we had to make a strict contract with him.”

She opened the laptop and showed her the final contract. Sandhya’s eyes popped out reading the language. Casually Pratima added, “See we never had any issues with him dealing in cash. We gave him holidays, cars, wine, women whenever he demanded.” Sandhya’s jaw dropped. “I somehow feel that he is sensing to lose the next election; that is if he gets a ticket in the first place. After all Kirit Bhai also knows people in each political high command. If this shares episode ever gets leaked to them, your husband’s political carrier is over. He is acting like this due to extreme insecurity. He should not be so pessimistic. ”

Sandhya could not take a sip from the tea placed in front of her.

“Madam Sandhya Natarajan?”

She looked at the well dressed man.

“Please follow me”

“Mrs. Natarajan, it is so nice to meet you one more time”, Mr Desai sang and came forward to shake her hand.

“You can call me Sandhya.” She added shaking his hand.

“Why, you don’t look too well. If there is any problem we can meet any other time. Absolutely no hassle.” He picked up the phone, “I will tell them to drop you back.” That’s when she realized, what was happening.

“No, no Mr Desai. I am sorry I was just lost in some random thoughts. You don’t worry about it. I am fine now. Really, I mean it. Let’s get down to business.”

He sat in his chair and told her clearly how she could contribute in their office. There was going to be just a little travel, may be only 4-5 days in a month to New Zealand.

“It is a beautiful place. You will have no trouble handling it.”

Sandhya looked straight at him and said: “Mr Desai, I can start from 1st of next month.” In a few minutes they had a formal contract in front of them. She was to be paid nearly 10 lakh a year with office car pick up and drop. They both signed it and she emerged from the cabin with a victorious smile. She ran towards Pratima waving the sheet of white paper. Pratima hugged her warmly.

Sandhya was not going home today to that stinky and corrupt ambience, called home; but to the club with her best friend. She knew it was too early to drink; but what the hell.

***

Both the women were flying high at 8pm only. With the strength of the job letter in her bag, Sandhya asked in very drunk but determined voice, “what are the options to save Kirit Bhai from the jaws of my husband, Mr. Vinod Natarajan? Give me the full list of them. I want to see where I can help you and Kirit bhai.”

Pratima pulled out her phone from the bag and played the phone conversation between Kirit Patel and Vinod Natarajan recorded earlier. Sandhya was shattered with her husband’s voice. He was behaving like a seasoned extortionist. Oh god, my husband? Is he the reason behind all this money crap? Pratima pulled her for a walk in the empty jogging track. They strolled slowly going over various possibilities. Sandhya found most were not practical and would leave them in difficult long term troubles with government, until Pratima came out with the last one…

They returned to their seats. Sandhya sat down with a thump. She couldn’t believe her ears! How could anyone even think of such an alternate? But as she thought more and more about it, it started sinking in. After all Kirit Patel’s company has hundreds of thousands of employees and millions of share holders. If and when the government finds out about free transfer of shares to someone, hell will break lose! Too many lives and livelihoods were at stake. Patel&Patel will lose their entire reputation in a flash! Yes it made sense… it did.

Now the details of who, how and when, had to be worked upon. Kirit Bhai was ready to support anyone for life who would take up this project. ‘Who’ or the actor was most important, because he/she had to have a very good motive to bump off someone otherwise it will look that he was a hired professional. So finding that person was the major task. It has to be someone who should have lifelong serious grudges against the man; like if a pregnant woman was left in the lurch or took away somebody’s entire source of livelihood… or it could be a deranged or mentally unstable person, who doesn’t know what he is doing. Such a person might be better since even law cannot convict him like it would a normal person. Many criminal have hidden behind the curtain of lost mental balance when cornered in a court.

Sandhya had gone into a shell for many days after that day’s meeting. She was thinking of the kind of sex she had with her husband was so unnatural. He seemed to act as though he was acting in porn movie rather making love to his wife. All the memories of dirty remarks and orders in bed were making her sick…

After two days Pratima called her and they met in the evening, in the same jogging track of the club. They talked for a long time.

First Sunday, after parliament session gets over, was zeroed in. Breakfast time. Sunday morning was most suitable, as everyone is in a lazy and holiday mood, even the law keepers. Sandhya chose her own semi-retarded brother as the ‘man’ for the mission. His mental state, that was against him all his life; was going to be an asset suddenly. There was a lot of discussion in Kirit bhai’s beach house about this. In such a fool proof case, there was no scope of taking a chance. Although Sandhya said she will take care of it, experts made arrangements for tier 2 and tier 3 also. Sandhya was getting eager to get over with her stinking life with a horrible human being. She was also looking forward to her new job, traveling and some fresh air. She had a mission and she knew it. She had to get rid of this uncouth, corrupt and sex hungry man, who couldn’t even perform in bed. He being her husband was not going to stop her.

Sandhya’s brother Prashant had arrived on Friday morning. Soon his classes started. He had been explained over and over where the piece will be lying. He has to be right in front of him, across the table, and when Sandhya didi calls the servant to the kitchen Prashant will do the needful and do it three times. He is going to help his very depressed sister. His family will be very rich after Sunday.

Final day arrived. Official staff was less than normal. Driver was given an off; mercifully he had asked for it. Children will sleep till well past 9am…

Vinod Natarajan was at the breakfast table at 8, sipping his tea and scanning the newspaper. No one noticed an athletic shadow jumped into the compound and hid behind the large flower pots, just behind the dining room window. He looked like any gardener or dhobi. After looking around, he took the red ‘angochaa’ from his right shoulder and wrapped it tightly on his face, leaving a narrow slit for his eyes. Prashant had taken his place on the chair opposite Vinod Natarajan. He fiddled under his cushion, pulled out the revolver and placed it securely on his thighs under his long shirt… Sandhya called out from the kitchen to take other dishes. The servant who was setting plates and glasses left the dining room. Prashant pulled out the revolver and aimed at Vinod Natarajan, who looked confused and dismissed the mad man with serious hesitation. He turned the page of the news paper but kept Prashant in his vision. Prashant’s hands shivered violently, as he tried to squeeze the trigger. Natarajan’s confusion turned into horror as the first bullet hit the ceiling. In a split second Natarajan got up from his chair and dashed towards Prashant to disarm him. Just then the shadow appeared, calmly placed his own right hand neatly on top of Prashant’s and finger on top of the finger on the trigger. And as they had planned 1, 2, 3, game was over. Sandhya and the servant appeared in the dining room hurriedly in a few seconds. They noticed a movement in the curtain. The shadow moved out of the door, went behind the house and vanished. Prashant was still holding the revolver.

On the face of it: Prashant is retarded. He cannot shoot anyone and why should he? The unknown shadow might have done it. As it had moved the curtain while leaving the scene of crime. But no one saw the shadow and the shooting. To add to it there were no other finger prints anywhere, except Prashant’s. After effect: Prashant is put behind bars as he surrendered to the nearest police station immediately. Surrendering guidance provided by Sandhya Natarajan. Getting his bail accomplished by lawyers recommended by Kirit Patel. Prashant’s family gets 25000 every month for killing/ not killing Vinod Natarajan. Sandhya is happy in her new job. She feels very important and useful. Vinod Natarajan’s death certificate was submitted to authorities with a copy of the contract between Patel&Patel and Vinod Natarajan. It accompanied a letter saying since the primary owner was no more, one crore shares were to be transferred back to the company’s official shares ledger.

End of ‘Dangerous Methods’