REVENGE
The lone streetlamp cast a long shadow onto the street as if trying to bridge across to the other side of the road. The individual, whose projection was so laid out, that cars ran over it and unknowing passer-bys walked over it, with little contrition, stood with his collar folded up and breathed out little wisps of warm breath, undecided.
At length, however he seemed to make up his mind and walked purposefully across the street to the door that had been left partially open. He strode through it and took the flight of stairs to the house numbered H 161. Having crossed the threshold, rashly, as an afterthought, the moment was frivolous, almost, considering the deep perturbation of a minute ago, he stood there, undecided.
It was strange, he was feeling liberated, somehow. The door almost had an inviting look but animated voices from inside made him stop. He fidgeted around in his overcoat pocket, adjusted the revolver and gave in to the hesitation. He looked above at the corridor lamp and saw that it needed replacing. He smiled to himself.
“He just smiled, man! That man has guts... if any are left”, the blackguard sniggered.
“Of course! You think seventeen years in prison won’t do that to a man”, the bartender chided him.
“They gutted him and left him to die, the warden waited for him to bleed to death. He just would not go... little, caked spots of blood were drying on his shirt and the large pool growing ever larger when they picked him up”
“Kismet yaar! Jaako raakhe saiiyan mar sake na koi, I’m telling you”, the blackguard swigged his last drop.
They did not realize of course that they were talking about him, hunched over his pint of beer, sitting alone on a table. He smiled to himself, thinking “He wasn’t even there”, feeling the scar along his abdomen...
“Chaukaaa!! Yaaaay!” ”What a shot!" “What happened what happened? Did somebody get out? ” “You shut up!” Inadvertently, almost he found himself with an ear on the door, straining to catch every word spoken inside the house, listening for that one voice.
He checked himself, took the revolver out, released the catch, released the magazine, made sure it was empty and replaced it in one long deliberate motion, to remind himself...
He began chopping down the wood in a series of long swooping motions. The tree was failing...it had failed... there were no more secrets in its hollow… the idea had seemed romantic to her at first , exchanging messages ,notes in the little hollow that only the two of them knew about ..And then it grew into this obsession. Throwing all care to the wind they would come to the tree a half an hour apart and then read each other’s messages for the day … until the day there was the message that signaled a finality no amount of entreaty could overcome.. He got an axe and chopped away at it, till it fell...
He raised the revolver... looked through the trigger hairs and pointed at the blank wall...tried to focus on a point on the wall... his mind automatically focusing him onto a point that was the target...he rubbed his eyes…did not see a point... he saw a white wall... he looked franctically for a point, for a target, he could not find one. So he decided to kill them all. “Dhichkiyaun dhichkiyaun”...is this the sound the revolver actually makes in slow motion or it would be more like “Dhish-udh”...he thought carefully about this, for he did not actually shoot … “arre shit! Out ho gaya, LBW” silence ...”What shit man … they can’t do it “, “Youre always like this man!” “ Kya matlab ?? ” “Matlab tu Saale hamesha se aisa hi hai!” “What do you mean? ” “ abbey abhi support karne ka time hai , tujhe sutta marna hai to mar le .. But excuse marke mat ja..chor!” , “Tu chor ! yaar”
“kitta score hua ?” , His revolver has dropped and is pointing at the ground , no longer at the wall anymore.. he strains to listen...
“You referred him ! and this is the biggest chit fund project that we have ever defaulted on. They are baying for somebody’s blood and it better be yours “ , the manager said
“Sir he did not do anything wrong, I am sure”
“You did then and I am not paying for that” , he said
“you should keep your love affairs out of this office ..considering that now you have a kid also.. I don’t know how you could ask your lover to come and work in this office” , the blackguard said
He stood outside , unsure , at a safe distance to make sure he was not eavesdropping as he heard… anger, frustration and then strangely enough …guilt.
Guilt ..for him ..for something he had not done.. what was it he felt ?
Love …
Frustration …
Loyalty
Guilt…yes ..guilt ..for something he had not done. He walked away.
He was arrested soon after. The offense ,considering the weak nature of their case made a strident plea ,for the maximum possible sentence , showing pictures of lives he had not seen or touched ,except that of his fame, making them rich on fabricated stories..., Ahh the irony!. There were no tearful dissensions from her … there was .. in fact nothing ..she was busy building a life..
A cloud appeared on the horizon, colored purple and with vibrant dashes of gold, reminding him of the flower that was not to be touched, for it was poisonous. The colors were but an allure , a temptation ..for it would kill him to touch that flower…. He chose .. He chose to walk into that horizon.. into the dark
And then emerge seventeen years later …
“arreee saala too much yaar fifty two runs off 48 deliveries”, “At least they are in it !” “Papa can we change the channel ,please?” “Nahin you go off and sleep , you have your GK quiz tomorrow, papa will we watch the match to the end? ” ”I’m going home man! .nahin sahi mein I got work tomorrow. I think they will lose anyways”
“ accha theek hai , I will see you tomorrow”
He was shaken out of his reverie. The hair on his back bristled and small drops of perspiration were shaken out of his hair as he pretended to stand outside the door of H 162 very deliberately and as if waiting for a response to his doorbell ring.. The door opened nonchalantly and goodbyes spoken and closed with equal nonchalance. He knew however that he would look through the peephole as to who the stranger was. He pretended to ring the doorbell again and waited until the renewed noises from across the door seemed to echo distance.. just in case however he made the elaborate motion of walking away from the adjoining door and pretend to walk downstairs. After a suitable pause, He crept unto the door and stood with his ears pressed against it, sure that they were watching television. He strained and heard that twenty two runs were required off 15 balls .. no 16 balls ..the last one was a no ball.. he thought about that .. for a second and felt sure that they would win .. almost against despair the revolver wiggled and made its presence felt .. he ignored it .. and pressed his ears against the door …straining to hear every word that was spoken out of the idiot box and he heard “out “ ”nahin six” ”maybe””yaaaaaaY””six”
He heard faint echoes … amongst the news that now only two runs were needed of five balls ..he was hopeful again ..he wiped the perspiration of his brow and looked up at the corridor lamp …suddenly everything was brighter! .. Over ! ….
He will not survive … well he has so far hasn’t he ? ..we need blood .. urgently !
Thank God ! she knows him too! what chance!
Faces ..scared and hopeful drifted past him and still he recognized one .. one that lay next to him with a drip in her hand .. he did recognize her..a lifegiver
“Rukawat ke liye khed hai!”
“Sorry for the interruption”
“We regret to inform that a particularly dangerous criminal has escaped from a transfer vehicle. He may be armed and dangerous. We recommend that citizens observe adequate precautions and close their doors and windows and inform the police at the slightest hint of suspicious activity”
For that inescapable moment the door seemed to disappear and he felt like he had just stepped out of the television screen. There was silence for a moment. And then …
The voice he had been listening for.. “Come have food …dinner is ready !” and then silence again …
He wanted revenge … long and steady and painful ..no excuses.. he wanted revenge..
He waited until the thrill of having won for the moment had passed and an hour later he heard muffled voices and sobs..
“ I turned him into this monster “ she sobbed,
“you paid back” , he said sternly
“I bet you will not recognize my photo after seventeen years” , he cribbed
She did not say anything ..just silence ..
“Waah they actually won! “ the news bar just read it “ , ecstatic he said
He heaved a sense of relief .. his boundaries seemed to be defined again .. he smiled to himself.. “They won!, Wow!”
“Okay ! let me put the kachra outside!” , she said
“Replay” , he heard and without thinking ,he put his eye to the peephole so that he could look at the winning shot on television.
“its dark”, she thought “and the corridor light is dim, let me look out of the peephole”
He fidgeted , he pummeled , and he looked for his revolver .. nowhere to be found and so .. this was the primal moment !!
Love at first sight…again
REVENGE…pure and simple ..
he smiled to himself and drifted..
She thought she had seen a ghost.. a familiar ghost
and she strained to listen and look
The shadows along the street seemed to grow longer and the streetlamp shut down on the retreating figure.
At length, however he seemed to make up his mind and walked purposefully across the street to the door that had been left partially open. He strode through it and took the flight of stairs to the house numbered H 161. Having crossed the threshold, rashly, as an afterthought, the moment was frivolous, almost, considering the deep perturbation of a minute ago, he stood there, undecided.
It was strange, he was feeling liberated, somehow. The door almost had an inviting look but animated voices from inside made him stop. He fidgeted around in his overcoat pocket, adjusted the revolver and gave in to the hesitation. He looked above at the corridor lamp and saw that it needed replacing. He smiled to himself.
“He just smiled, man! That man has guts... if any are left”, the blackguard sniggered.
“Of course! You think seventeen years in prison won’t do that to a man”, the bartender chided him.
“They gutted him and left him to die, the warden waited for him to bleed to death. He just would not go... little, caked spots of blood were drying on his shirt and the large pool growing ever larger when they picked him up”
“Kismet yaar! Jaako raakhe saiiyan mar sake na koi, I’m telling you”, the blackguard swigged his last drop.
They did not realize of course that they were talking about him, hunched over his pint of beer, sitting alone on a table. He smiled to himself, thinking “He wasn’t even there”, feeling the scar along his abdomen...
“Chaukaaa!! Yaaaay!” ”What a shot!" “What happened what happened? Did somebody get out? ” “You shut up!” Inadvertently, almost he found himself with an ear on the door, straining to catch every word spoken inside the house, listening for that one voice.
He checked himself, took the revolver out, released the catch, released the magazine, made sure it was empty and replaced it in one long deliberate motion, to remind himself...
He began chopping down the wood in a series of long swooping motions. The tree was failing...it had failed... there were no more secrets in its hollow… the idea had seemed romantic to her at first , exchanging messages ,notes in the little hollow that only the two of them knew about ..And then it grew into this obsession. Throwing all care to the wind they would come to the tree a half an hour apart and then read each other’s messages for the day … until the day there was the message that signaled a finality no amount of entreaty could overcome.. He got an axe and chopped away at it, till it fell...
He raised the revolver... looked through the trigger hairs and pointed at the blank wall...tried to focus on a point on the wall... his mind automatically focusing him onto a point that was the target...he rubbed his eyes…did not see a point... he saw a white wall... he looked franctically for a point, for a target, he could not find one. So he decided to kill them all. “Dhichkiyaun dhichkiyaun”...is this the sound the revolver actually makes in slow motion or it would be more like “Dhish-udh”...he thought carefully about this, for he did not actually shoot … “arre shit! Out ho gaya, LBW” silence ...”What shit man … they can’t do it “, “Youre always like this man!” “ Kya matlab ?? ” “Matlab tu Saale hamesha se aisa hi hai!” “What do you mean? ” “ abbey abhi support karne ka time hai , tujhe sutta marna hai to mar le .. But excuse marke mat ja..chor!” , “Tu chor ! yaar”
“kitta score hua ?” , His revolver has dropped and is pointing at the ground , no longer at the wall anymore.. he strains to listen...
“You referred him ! and this is the biggest chit fund project that we have ever defaulted on. They are baying for somebody’s blood and it better be yours “ , the manager said
“Sir he did not do anything wrong, I am sure”
“You did then and I am not paying for that” , he said
“you should keep your love affairs out of this office ..considering that now you have a kid also.. I don’t know how you could ask your lover to come and work in this office” , the blackguard said
He stood outside , unsure , at a safe distance to make sure he was not eavesdropping as he heard… anger, frustration and then strangely enough …guilt.
Guilt ..for him ..for something he had not done.. what was it he felt ?
Love …
Frustration …
Loyalty
Guilt…yes ..guilt ..for something he had not done. He walked away.
He was arrested soon after. The offense ,considering the weak nature of their case made a strident plea ,for the maximum possible sentence , showing pictures of lives he had not seen or touched ,except that of his fame, making them rich on fabricated stories..., Ahh the irony!. There were no tearful dissensions from her … there was .. in fact nothing ..she was busy building a life..
A cloud appeared on the horizon, colored purple and with vibrant dashes of gold, reminding him of the flower that was not to be touched, for it was poisonous. The colors were but an allure , a temptation ..for it would kill him to touch that flower…. He chose .. He chose to walk into that horizon.. into the dark
And then emerge seventeen years later …
“arreee saala too much yaar fifty two runs off 48 deliveries”, “At least they are in it !” “Papa can we change the channel ,please?” “Nahin you go off and sleep , you have your GK quiz tomorrow, papa will we watch the match to the end? ” ”I’m going home man! .nahin sahi mein I got work tomorrow. I think they will lose anyways”
“ accha theek hai , I will see you tomorrow”
He was shaken out of his reverie. The hair on his back bristled and small drops of perspiration were shaken out of his hair as he pretended to stand outside the door of H 162 very deliberately and as if waiting for a response to his doorbell ring.. The door opened nonchalantly and goodbyes spoken and closed with equal nonchalance. He knew however that he would look through the peephole as to who the stranger was. He pretended to ring the doorbell again and waited until the renewed noises from across the door seemed to echo distance.. just in case however he made the elaborate motion of walking away from the adjoining door and pretend to walk downstairs. After a suitable pause, He crept unto the door and stood with his ears pressed against it, sure that they were watching television. He strained and heard that twenty two runs were required off 15 balls .. no 16 balls ..the last one was a no ball.. he thought about that .. for a second and felt sure that they would win .. almost against despair the revolver wiggled and made its presence felt .. he ignored it .. and pressed his ears against the door …straining to hear every word that was spoken out of the idiot box and he heard “out “ ”nahin six” ”maybe””yaaaaaaY””six”
He heard faint echoes … amongst the news that now only two runs were needed of five balls ..he was hopeful again ..he wiped the perspiration of his brow and looked up at the corridor lamp …suddenly everything was brighter! .. Over ! ….
He will not survive … well he has so far hasn’t he ? ..we need blood .. urgently !
Thank God ! she knows him too! what chance!
Faces ..scared and hopeful drifted past him and still he recognized one .. one that lay next to him with a drip in her hand .. he did recognize her..a lifegiver
“Rukawat ke liye khed hai!”
“Sorry for the interruption”
“We regret to inform that a particularly dangerous criminal has escaped from a transfer vehicle. He may be armed and dangerous. We recommend that citizens observe adequate precautions and close their doors and windows and inform the police at the slightest hint of suspicious activity”
For that inescapable moment the door seemed to disappear and he felt like he had just stepped out of the television screen. There was silence for a moment. And then …
The voice he had been listening for.. “Come have food …dinner is ready !” and then silence again …
He wanted revenge … long and steady and painful ..no excuses.. he wanted revenge..
He waited until the thrill of having won for the moment had passed and an hour later he heard muffled voices and sobs..
“ I turned him into this monster “ she sobbed,
“you paid back” , he said sternly
“I bet you will not recognize my photo after seventeen years” , he cribbed
She did not say anything ..just silence ..
“Waah they actually won! “ the news bar just read it “ , ecstatic he said
He heaved a sense of relief .. his boundaries seemed to be defined again .. he smiled to himself.. “They won!, Wow!”
“Okay ! let me put the kachra outside!” , she said
“Replay” , he heard and without thinking ,he put his eye to the peephole so that he could look at the winning shot on television.
“its dark”, she thought “and the corridor light is dim, let me look out of the peephole”
He fidgeted , he pummeled , and he looked for his revolver .. nowhere to be found and so .. this was the primal moment !!
Love at first sight…again
REVENGE…pure and simple ..
he smiled to himself and drifted..
She thought she had seen a ghost.. a familiar ghost
and she strained to listen and look
The shadows along the street seemed to grow longer and the streetlamp shut down on the retreating figure.
posted by Doh | 4:13 AM
2 Comments:
uggh blogger messed up big time on ur isshtory. too many irritating boxes where they dont belong. be a sweatheart and try getting rid of em. :)
It was a great piece , DOh. Chk my comment on your poem pls
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