Jinxed Fate

*Hey there Delilah.. what's it like in New York City?* buzzed her phone for the seventh time. She could sense something vibrating but was too lost in the smoke and bitter taste of liquid to respond. She opened her eyes slightly to find blurred red and blue laser lights, and her friends in shimmering dresses, lying next to her on the same couch.

*Hey there Delilah.. what's it like in New York City?* sang the phone again.

It was quite late in the night, and most of the people in the city were fast asleep, tired of their day-long hard work; but for Zara, her night had just started. Like always, she was out partying with her friends, if you put her disc companions who used to enjoy on her money in the category of friends. Liquor was flowing like water, white powder was served in platter, and the new generation of the country was celebrating another successful day of doing nothing.

Some heavy vehicles with sirens were sensed by these unconscious teenagers when they all stood up with a jerk and set themselves in motion. It was Diwali the next day, and since the police needed Lakshmi to invite Lakshmi to their homes, they were on for a raid.
Of all the people present in the pub, Zara was of the most concern to them, since she was still in her 17th year and had not hit adulthood.
Or maybe, because she was the only source of money for her friends and, the only source of red notes for the club manager.

After greasing their palms with her ancestors’ hard-earned money, Zara started her journey back home. She had no control over herself, and like always, depended upon one of the boys in the bar to drop her home, who did so in return of a handsome tip.

Usually, she did not care if her family was asleep or awake, but today, there was something unusual. She sensed more than required people in her house, and at this time, it was unexpected. She thought she heard people crying, she thought she heard someone shouting, but she was used to of hallucinations. She was still half conscious and smelled like rotten eggs. Her mind was still blurred but she forced her vision to sharpen, but not to much result. She struggled through the people, some of who looked keen to grant her a death sentence, and reached her bedroom. She realized the presence of some people midway too, but was too bottled up to look for the reason.

Seconds, and she had gone to sleep a peaceful sleep.
Perhaps, her last peaceful sleep.

The sun dawned earlier than expected.
She woke up to continuous banging on her door.

''Why are you knocking mumma? Come in, no?''

Some more banging followed.

''Who is it? How many times do I have to tell you idiotic servants not to wake me up? Come in whoever you are."

The door opened and she saw her brother standing there, in anger, which was highly unlikely of his usual calm and composed self.
He was clad in a white Kurta Pyjama, which was again, highly unlikely of his usual suave business suits. With a spinning head, she saw his face. He had red eyes, and looked like he had cried all night.
He burst in and slapped her hard across the face.

Sakina, her sister-in-law stopped her husband with a shrill in her voice but anyhow, Zara knew that this echo was under the influence of that lady standing next to her, in a draped white suit.

''What is wrong with you bhai? This woman asked you to slap me right? I don't know why she is so jealous of me. Why didn't you go for work? Let me tell this to mom. Enough of you both now.''

Another slap.

''You are asking me what is wrong? Mom is no more you spoiled brat. Mom is no more,'' his brother replied with a hiccupping sob.

''Whaa..at? Mom... mom is no more? What are you saying? I am sure I saw her last night. I am sure. If this is to make me realize how bad a daughter I've been, don't bhai, don't. I apologise. I profoundly do. Come on, say that you are kidding and this is plotted... say it bhai?,'' she screamed shaking her brother from head to toe and ran out of her room down the stairs.

''Papa? Where is mumma, papa? Bhai says she is dead? Why are you all wearing white? Why do we have so many guests? Papa...''

She was trembling.

Her father pointed to a corpse in green shroud lying on the floor.
She ran to touch her mother but her sister-in-law held her back.

''You should not touch her with alcohol running in your blood Zara. Go take a bath first.''

''Go away. She is my mother, go away,'' she scowled at her and ran to her mother’s body.

But she was stopped with a slap.
Her father had hit her for the first time since she was brought to this world. She turned around and looked at her brother who was holding her hand tightly, her eyes pleading to let her go.

With tears running down his stern face, her brother shook his head.

''You have lost the right to touch her Zara. Last night, when you had cut yourself from the smell of cold air and enjoyed the pungent smell of golden sparkling drinks, she had a stroke, and all she wanted was to see you. She wanted to see you Zara, for one last time. I was there, Sakina was there, but as always, she wanted you. I never understood why she preferred you over me. Sakina has been more of a daughter to her than you. She was the one who cared enough to be with her, to wash her for the last time, while you were up there, sleeping. When you came home last night, she had her last breath after seeing you. And you didn't even care to stop for her? You will not touch her Zara. Never again. And this is your punishment. Now sit here and cry. I have to do my duties of being a son to her. I have to go bury her.''

As her brother and father carried her mother on their shoulders, she just sat there, staring blankly at the wall.
She didn't even realize when she had stopped crying.

Unlike the usual high-class kids who are used to voids in their own world of ego and money, Zara loved her mother.
Perhaps, her mother was the only person she actually talked to and looked forward to. The only person who understood her and felt her, the only resort after her nights of heavy boozing and days of heavy headaches. The one person who had been there for her all her life, Zara was not there for her for the one last time.
That one person would now be just a picture on the wall.

Usually, you make mistakes and suffer the fate.
But sometimes, you make mistakes and nothing happens.
And then sometimes, you suffer.
You feel guilty and beg for one last chance.
You suffer for your entire life.
Zara was always envied for her fate, which was now jinxed.
The fate she would have to live with, daily.

~Nandini and Simran.

Second Wife

She touched her belly once again and felt the little foetus kicking her inside. “Just if he was with me to experience this happiness,” she pondered and felt asleep.

She was woken up the next morning due to heavy banging’s on the door. The neighbours were calling her to celebrate Holi with them. She sent her son, Satya, to play with them but decided to stay indoors herself; faking morning sickness. Mustering up much desired courage and strength, she decided to call her husband. She was sure he would not receive the call but nonetheless, dialled his number making a little prayer. The bell wholly rang, and yet again, nobody answered.

She was on the verge of breaking up. It was not easy to bear a notorious kid and another one in the stomach all by herself. She would wake up puking; undergo heavy migraine attacks, massive mood-swings and immense fits of pain in her abdomen, all by herself. She would even have to visit the gynaecologist, all by herself. She could obviously call up a friend or a relative, but she, due to the habit of over-thinking stuff, did not want to disturb anybody else.

Every night before losing to sleep, a tear or two would escape her eye and she would feel a terrible longing for her husband.

The day she had vowed to find happiness in the bond called marriage, she had devoted her life to Ravi. She never complained, protested, grumbled or cried. Not even when her husband had first told her how he was supposed to leave her all alone with Satya and live with the second wife. Not even when he had told her that he had his duties to fulfil, regarding the second wife. For Tapapsya knew that the second wife gave her husband all the honour and respect he deserved.

But today, the void which was building in her over the years seemed to swallow her up. She needed a companion, a friend whom she could snuggle up with and sleep the entire night. She wanted to wake up to someone’s voice and know that somebody is always around to take care of her. Instant tears had started to flow off her eye which was at almost the same instant, turned into a glee.
The phone flashed Ravi’s number.

“Hello!”

“Happy Holi, Ravi!”

“Happy Holi, my love. How are you?”

“I am all good,” she wanted to tell him that he missed him. She wanted him to know how much she craved for him but she knew that would put him to worry and make him hunt for a leave from the second wife and so freed him the trauma.

“Are you sure? I doubt. You don’t sound so good.”

“Ravi,” she let out a heavy sigh. “Satya misses you. The little kid in my belly kicks me every day and asks about his father. The walls of our home seem to miss you. The neighbours, the grocery-shop owner, everyone misses you. And the most of all, I miss you. I miss you a lot.”

“I am coming!”

“What? No, no. See, this is why I don’t express myself. Please don’t come. She needs you more than I do. Please take care of her.”

“Ssssh. I called up just to tell you that start preparing gulab jamun’s for me. The war on the border, I told you about, has been settled. And I have been granted a week off on paternity grounds by my uniform. Or what do you call her? My second wife,” he mocked, imitating her voice.

“Where are you?”

“On my way. I’ll be there tomorrow morning.”

He could feel a sobbing voice from the other side, “How about Ragulla’s this time?” the voice declared and hung up.

The little girl.

“Didi I will never go to a college which is out of my town as my mother insists. I will intentionally perform the worst I can, in my board exams and take admission in a local college.”

I woke up with these words resounding in my head. The image of that little girl wearing a pink tiara on her head is still vivid in my head. I met her a few years ago in the train heading to New Delhi. She questioned me about my purpose of going to Delhi and I informed her about my college there. That is exactly when she whispered those words in my ears making sure her mother – who sat opposite to us – could not overhear our conversation.
Initially, I took it as a stubborn wish of a 15 year old but I was proven wrong at judgements; brutally wrong, as the journey advanced. She poured her heart out to me. Not that I interrogated, but that she was too lonely and in this huge world. Or maybe, too scared to share it with people who met her every day.

“Didi, my father beats my mother a lot. My mother too, retaliates and sometimes even I infringe, but then he beats us both. Beats us more than before. Didi, he burns my mother with cigarettes. He abuses her, he abuses my brother, all the relatives from my mother’s family also me at times. He doesn’t even earn. Whatever he gets, he drinks it or smokes it.
But, God doesn’t punish him. I dislike God, Didi”

I gulped in some saliva.
My throat had dried listening to the story of this 12 year old who lived in such a huge city like Pune but still so helpless.

“Why doesn’t your mother complain about him? Or get a divorce?” I probed.



“She did once! But my father was let out of the jail within three days. They said that they could not keep him for long. We were supposed to take him to a higher court but my mother was too good for that, Didi. She melted at the sight of my father being in room so small that one could not even stretch properly and decided to forgive him. But my father started with the torture once again after a few weeks. My brother was taking his X board exams, Didi”

“And, divorce?”

“No divorce. Our house is built on a plot which is registered under the name of both my parents and my father is not ready to leave his plot. Neither can my mother pay him for that part since she has to breed a son who studies abroad and also me, her demanding silly daughter who troubles her a lot. Or, even if she does, by applying for a loan; there is no guarantee that my father will never come back to torture us. Even the police doesn’t take the guarantee.” She muttered in a single breath and suddenly paused as if sighing over something she had remembered.
“I hate this system didi. I hate the police. Why can’t they take a guarantee? What else are they for? They don’t work without a favour and money. They work only for famous people” she continued. “I have decided. I will never go to a college out of Pune like my brother did. I will live with mumma. Who knows if that man kills her when she is deep in sleep? No one will help her, didi. No police. No neighbour. Neighbours are too afraid and police, too greedy,” she untangled and slept.
“I have seen bruises and cuts on my mother’s arms. I am never leaving my mother... Never leaving her alone”

Slept, a peaceful sleep.
Probably the kind of sleep she won’t be blessed with that night when she reaches the same roof wherein her father lives.

A tear trickled down my cheek when I saw her sleeping; and to much surprise, the girl did not break down even once.
Her eyes reflected strength.

She had told me, “Didi I have cried a lot but I always made sure my mother doesn’t catch me sobbing. She’d hate to see me crying. She will die a little more inside and fall apart. I don’t want to add up to her worries hence; I have completely stopped shedding tears now. That monster doesn’t deserve it. My mumma tells me I am strong’’

Indeed, she was strong.
Strong enough to take decisions like supporting her mother.
Strong enough to comment on the system.
Strong enough to understand the world at the tender age of twelve.

Dr. Dreck

It was a scary dark night.
Not like the one which is sought by the rapists, neither the one in which wolves howl some odd distances away.

This night was different.

This, was a typical Dreck night.

Exactly the one, wherein he went out on the snow laden streets with a shovel. With a shovel, not to remove ice or to break it but, to haunt.
Haunt and hunt.
Hunt for innocent eyes.

~

Dreck was the most loved professor at The Harvard University. Lads came up to him asking for random pictures and with personal problems. Dr. Dreck was best known to put people at ultimate rescue.
But behind the veil of this wrinkled face, almost covered with huge round glasses, there was much more to Dreck.
He changed in cold winter nights.
He did not really turn into a vampire; neither did he practice black magic with voodoo dolls, but something more.
Much, much more.
Dreck, was a hunter.

He grew up reading about Cayetano Santos Godino, best known as Petiso Orejudo who, at the age of 16, killed children and envied him. Dreck limited the envy only to a special influence of a divinity on the mind of human beings and denied copying him.

Dreck waited –more than eagerly- for it to be December and for the blades to tremble.

Awhile people cuddled under velvety blankets and children sneaked out to watch Adult movies; Dreck, with an overcoat, a hat and his gum boots, strolled out on the streets resembling Sherlock with those intense gray eyes.

Taxis honked at him supposing him to be the man who would pay them the double charge they quoted after 12, but Dreck favoured walking.
And making his victims walk.

~

‘Oh there!’ he said to himself when he saw a little body trembling on the roadside. ‘Today is a treat’, he assured himself when he spotted two more souls crouching nearby on the cold ground.
But, THREE was an odd figure.
Dreck believed in evens.
He, was greedy.

~

He fumbled his pockets for the cookies he bought and started moving towards the kids.

‘Hey there! Too cold tonight?’ he questioned with a gleam in his eyes.

‘The snow covers the ground, they at least say so’ replied a shaking voice.

‘Oh humour! I like it; I have some cookies for all of you!’

The bait was offered to the prey,
The prey stood tall in the trap.

It was just one of them. Just one ‘Anti-Dreck’ as Dr. Dreck liked to call the lot who refused to his cookies.
This Anti-Dreck’s mother used to tell him, only when she was alive - ‘Never accept cookies from strangers. They turn the chocolate chips into monsters when they offer’ and he remembered it. Unlike the fellow orphans who could go to any level for free cookies.

Perhaps, Dreck liked this Anti-Dreck lot.
He took them as a challenge. These stubborn people gave him a unique glee.
He loved to convince them and make them give in. He loved loud cries.
He loved losers. He loved orphan losers.

Dreck did not really impose the cookie on him but just rested it on the ground near to where Anti-Dreck sat and walked away.
While others enjoyed the cookies, Anti-Dreck stared at it for five seconds. Five long seconds and his stomach finally gave up.
He grabbed it and gulped it all at once.

A wicked face smiled somewhere behind a tree and treated himself with neat whiskey.

~

Couple of minutes and all these bodies lost control, almost falling on the floor.

Dreck grabbed the self-created opportunity and reached out to them offering help, blaming the brutal weather for their dizziness.

Everyone, including Anti-Dreck accepted the offer of help.

‘Victory,’ Dreck confirmed.

He made those three walk to his place and fetched one more on the way since he wanted someone to help these stumbling bones walk –or, only as it seemed- and the fourth victim agreed.

An even figure.
FOUR at once. Ultimate delight.

The hen cock-a-doodles-do as sun rays shone over the mountains and anti-Dreck was the first to wake up with a blurred vision and with apparent boulders falling on his head. He tried to recollect his last night and everything was very clear.

He knew that him, waking up under a velvet blanket, on a cosy bed, in a centrally heated house was a trap.

He had often heard about people kidnapping kids, disassembling their and their bodies and making them beg. He was sure his leg was to be cut off and he did not like it.
He wanted to escape.

He made his fellows wake up and immediately silenced them.
Only when they attained full conscience, he explained them the ‘plan’

‘We will get off this bed, one at a time. Go downstairs, meet the monster and greet him with a hearty smile. You three come following me and I will arrange the knife by then. I shall... ‘’

‘But, you’ someone interrupted.

‘No questions. Let me complete’

‘So, I will put the knife to his throat and you, John, arrange a taxi. We will take him to the police station.’’

We will have him arranged, he thought to himself.
Damage and ruin will meet the old man.
He will have to leave this warm house.
Dr. Dreck’s life shall be too grim for levity.

‘So I hope I have made myself clear? Let us go’

‘Sure’ they replied in unison.

When the kids went downstairs, their eyes twinkled.
Twinkled, to see the tables decorated with zillion types of chocolate pastries; and doughnuts. A side table displayed the miniature of a cotton candy store. Balloons and corners filled everything else.

This was a fairyland, a dreamland for the three orphans and they almost reached out to a candy.

‘Stop,’ Anti-Dreck announced.

This is a mesh. Do not give in.
I know these contain sedatives.

Dr. Dreck was busy on a call all this while often using words like ‘orphan,’ ‘four,’ ‘kids,’ ‘sending them.’

This assured Anti-Dreck of Dreck’s intentions.

Dreck hung up and turned around only to see four blank faces.

‘Oh, my sunshine’s! Good Morning! I hope the night was comfortable enough?’

‘Yes. Yeah,’ they murmured together.

And before any further talking, Anti-Dreck snapped his fingers which was a sign to put the ‘plan’ into action.

Two of the kids felt week but Anti-Dreck warned them. ‘We have to get him arranged!’
And thereby, it was duly executed.

But, only with a twist.

When John went out to seek a taxi, two policeman with a smiling lady in her early thirty’s already stood at there to scream ‘Surprise’

John was puzzled. ‘Um, what?’

‘Don’t you look so aghast Darling! We are here to take you to the orphan home. No more sleeping on the cold pavement with a hungry stomach. Thank Dreck. He is such a sweetheart. Where is he? Why can’t I see him”?’

John was bewildered.
Anti-Dreck, baffled.
The other two, amused for free candies.
And Dreck, beatified to have escaped the knife.

The kids were arranged.
A star danced in the sky.

Breakup, Breakup.

They both had been in an adorable and enchanting relationship since exactly a year now. But Zara, because of her own reasons, had suddenly started disliking it.



She wanted a breakup and yet could not be so brutal on the guy who, she knew, loved her to death.

She did not want him to fall apart and yet wanted her apparently long lost freedom back.

Not being able to admit the hurried disliking in a composed manner, she decided to give it some time.

Perhaps, the thought stayed only for two days.



She had, out of nowhere, entered that state wherein even a 'hello' from him had started to irritate the hell out of her. The itch of breaking up was now getting intense.

Ignoring was the only card left in her deck.



Things were smooth initially, because of Arjun being the understanding and not-indulging-into-her-personal-space kind of a boyfriend he was.

He knew his love will get back to him.

He understood she needed some space.



But subsequently, Zara’s running away from every question and never receiving his calls had started getting on his nerves.

He tried a lot to keep his calm and to put the pieces of this scattered puzzle into frame, but only to zero results.



Sukanya, their common friend, was the only hope Arjun now clinged to. He often approached her for comfort and solace which she duly provided.



Zara had started noting this proximity between Arjun and Sukanya.

She knew what she had to do.

''I shall give them some time alone and eventually blame Arjun for double dating with Sukanya which will end up with me dumping him and getting back my life,'' she thought to herself.

However, slapped herself the very next moment for inculcating such a cheap idea.



''No. I cannot be so selfish'' she thought to herself and called up Arjun.

''I want to break up. I cannot fake my feelings anymore'' she blurted; to which, all she could hear was hiccuping sobs.

Arjun pleaded and begged every possible way he could and Zara had no choice.



The relationship had started again.



A few hours and ''No matter how cheap it sounds, THAT plan is the only architect of my long lost happiness. Please forgive me, Dear Lord,'' she declared to her conscience that night under the warm quilt.



The plan took three months to be perfectly executed.



Sudden cancellation of dates and long hours of no-phone-calls from Zara was a very normal chore for Arjun now.

Hence, he had stopped worrying and whining about it now.

Not that he was an understating young lad, but that he always had Sukanya for rescue.



It was one fine evening when Zara called up Arjun when she got to know about him being at Sukanya's place.

She knew what to do next. She could not let this chance go.

Within no time, she had bumped into Sukanya's place with a well prepared speech and method of exertion.



''Arjun'' she almost screamed ''I have been calling you for two hours and you.....''



''Wait, Zara. I need to talk to you''... ''We need to talk to you'' corrected Sukanya and held Arjun’s hand.



''Since a last few months, you have been ignoring me like a maniac. I do not mean to blame you or cheat on you but I just need to confront my feelings now. I do not want you to live in a denial. I have fallen in love with Sukanya. You can beat me, scream at me, punish me ....''



“''t is okay. I understand,'' blurted Zara.



Just as she picked her bag and turned to walk away, a salty drop of water dwelled in her eye.