সেই রাত - (That Night)

Throwback Thursday... This story I had written as a high-school student almost 17 years back in October of 1997 for my school magazine. The story was meant as an homage to the people who died in the 'Upahaar Cinema Fire' at Green Park, New Delhi on Friday, 13 June 1997. 

উঃ ! এই শীতের রাতেও ঘেমে-ঘেমে সব জামা কাপড় ভিজে গেল। আর হবে নাই বা কেন, পুলিশের তাড়ায়ে যে সেই ঘন্টা খানেক থেকে গলি-গলি দিয়ে পালিয়ে বেড়াচ্ছি। চার দিন আগে শেঠ ধনিরামকে খুন করে বেশ কিছু  টাকা আর গয়নাগাটি নিয়ে পালালাম। সেই থেকে পুলিশের ভয়ে নিজের একটা গুপ্ত আস্তানায় লুকিয়ে ছিলাম এত দিন। যা খাবার-দাবার সেখানে ছিল সে সব দুদিন পরেই শেষ  গেল। তাই আজ আর না থাকতে পেরে সাহস করে বেরিয়ে গেলাম কিছু খাবার-দাবার কিনতে কম্বল ঢাকা দিয়ে। 

কিন্তু আজ আমার কপালটাই মন্দ। না জানি কি করে যেই দোকানে আমি পাউরুটি ইত্যাদি কিনতে গেছি সেই দোকানেই এক হাবিলদার একটা কুকুর নিয়ে  ঢুকেছে। কুকুরটা আমাকে দেখতেই পুরসরে চেঁচাতে শুরু করে দেয় আর সোজা আমার ওপর ঝাঁপ দেয়। ওর গলার চেনটা হাবিলদারের হাথে থাকার জন্য ও ঠিক আমার ওপের উঠতে পারল না। কিন্তু ওর ঝাপে আমার কবলের একটা কোনা ওর মুখে এসে গেল আর তাতেই সেই কোনটা ধরে এক টান দিল। টান পরতেই কম্বলটা আমার গা থেকে নেমে এলো। আমার আসল চেহারা সবার সামনে আসতেই হাবিলদারটা আমায় কিভাবে যেন চিনে ফেলল। চেনামাত্রই সে দিল তার হুইশিলে ফু আর কুকুরটাকে আমার পিছনে লেলিয়ে দিল। কি আর করব, পরি কি মরি করে পালালাম সেখান থেকে। কুকুরটার থেকে বাঁচতে গিয়ে আমার অবস্তা কাহিল হয়ে গেল। ততক্ষণে আবার বেশ কয়েকটা পুলিশ জীপ্ আমার পিছনে লেগে গিয়েছে। বেশ বুঝতে পারছিলাম সারা শহরের পুলিশ সতর্ক হয়ে গেছে। 

অনেক কষ্টে গলি ঘুপচি দিয়ে পালিয়ে আমি এখানে এই গলিটার কোনে এসে পরে মনে হলো বেছে গেছি। কিন্তু একী, আবার পুলিশ জীপের সাইরেনের আওয়াজ শুনতে পাচ্ছি যে!!! আরে, ওখানে যে খুব আলো দেখতে পাচ্ছি। ওখানে তো সেই সিনেমা হল-টা আছে না যেটা এই বছর খানেক আগে জ্বলে-পুড়ে ছাই হয়ে গিয়েছিল। সেই ভয়ংকর অগ্নিকান্ডে অনেকজন মারা গিয়েছিল। তারপর থেকে তো এই হলটা বন্ধ ছিল, কবে আবার ঠিক-ঠাক হয়ে চালু হল। অবশ্য আমি তো মাস দুই শহরের বাইরে ছিলাম আর এখানে এসেই তো এই  ঝন্ঝাটের মধ্যে আটকে পরলাম। হয়ত এই মাঝেই এটা আবার শুরু হয়েছে। এই সব ভাভছি কি হটাথ পুলিশের জীপের শব্দ কানে পড়ল, বুঝলাম ওরা একদম কাছে এসে পড়েছে। এবার বাঁচবার একটাই উপায়, এক সিনেমা হাল্টাতেই ঢুকে পড়ি। 

এখনও লাস্ট শো শুরু হয়ে বেশিক্ষণ হয়েনি। এতক্ষণ কাস্টিং চলছিল। টিকেট কাউন্টারের  লোকটা  ভারী অদ্ভূত লাগলো আমার। একটা কম্বল দিয়ে সারা গা-মাথা পর্যন্ত ঢাকা। সে যখন আমাকে টিকেট-টা দিল তখন অর হাথটার এক ঝলক দেখেই আমার গা গুলিয়ে উঠল। ওর হাথটা এমন ভয়ংকর ভাবে জলে গেছে যে অনেক জায়গায় ভেতরের হাড় পর্যন্ত দেখা যাচ্ছে। বোধহয় সেই অগ্নিকান্ড তেই ওর এমনি অবস্থা হয়েছে। যাক এখন এই সব চিন্তা না করে ফিল্মটায় মন দি। কিন্তু চাইলেই কি আর মন বসানো যায়। দুদিন ধরে পেটে একটি দানাও পড়েনি আর এর পরেও যে কিছু পড়বে তারও কোনো আশা দেখতে পাচ্ছি না। সবের ওপর আবার সেই পুলিশের ঝন্ঝাট। আরে ওই তো একটা ছেলে ট্রে-তে করে  কি সব খাবারের জিনিস নিয়ে যাচ্ছে। ওকে ডাকি, ওর কাছে যদি কিছু পাওয়া যায়। আরে ভাভতে ভাভতেই দেখি ও চলে যাচ্ছে, তাড়াতাড়ি ধরি ওকে। 

আরে! এ  আমি কি দেখছি... ইন্টার্ভেলের আলো জ্বলে যেতেই, আমি একি দেখছি... এই ছেলেটার গায়ে তো মাংশ বা চামড়া কিছুই নেই। দুই চক্ষু কঠরের মধ্যে একটার থেকে আবার মাংসের দলা মত বেরিয়ে রয়েছে। উফ! কি বিভৎস!

আরে একি ! এই হল-এ কারা বসে আছে, এরা কি মানুষ, না প্রেতাত্মা! 

উঃ! আমি আর এখানে থাকতে পারছিনা, আমায় এক্ষুনি এখান থেকে পালিয়ে যেতে হবে... 

ঐ যে, ওরা নিজেদের সিট ছেড়ে উঠে আসছে আমারি দিকে। এরা যে সবাই জীবন্ত কঙ্কাল। কেউ পুরোপুরি কঙ্কাল, যাদের গায়ে এক ফোঁটা মাংশ বা চামড়ার চিহ্ন নেই, আর অন্যদের গায়ে কথাও-কথাও  লেগে রয়েছে পোড়া মাংশ  আর চামড়ার অবশেষ। কারো আবার চোখের কোটর থেকে বেরিয়ে এসেছে মাংশের দলা, অন্যদের চোখের লেশমাত্রও নেই। 

না, এবার এখান থেকে পালাতেই হবে। কিন্তু আমি পালাবো কোথা দিয়ে? এই হলে স্রেফ একটাই দরজা খোলা রয়েছে আর তারই সামনে রয়েছে বালকনিতে যাবার স্নিরি। আর সেইদিয়ে নেমে আসছে আরো অনেক নরকঙ্কাল। আমার পালাবার রাস্তা বন্ধ সবদিক দিয়ে। ওরা আমায় ঘিরে ফেলেছে চারিদিক দিয়ে। হল-এ ঢোকা মাত্র যে হালকা এক গন্ধ পেয়েছিলাম আবার আমি সেটা চিনতে পেরেছি। খুব চড়া ভাভে আসছে এবার সেই গন্ধ, পোড়া মৃতদেহের গন্ধ! 

উঃ! আমার গা গুলিয়ে বমি আসছে, আমার হটাত বুকে খুব ব্যথা শুরু হয়েছে, মাথা ঝিম-ঝিম উঠছে, আমি টলে-টলে পরে যাচ্ছি...

হাঁ, আমি এখন সেই প্রেতাত্মাদের  সাথে বসেই ফিল্ম দেখছি। আমি আর ওদের ভয় করিনা। ওদের নিয়ে আমার আর কোনো অস্বস্তিও নেই। কারণ...কারণ আমি এখন ওদেরই একজন, আমিও এখন একটি প্রেতাত্মা। 

কাল সকালে হয়ত পুলিশ আবিষ্কার করবে আমার মৃতদেহ। এক সিনেমা হলের ধ্বংশাবশেষের স্নিরিতে। তার পোস্টমর্টেম করলে ওরা জানতে পারবে যে আমার মৃত্যু হয়েছে প্রচন্ড ভয় পেয়ে হার্টফেল কোরে। কিন্তু কেউ জানতে পারবে না যে কি দেখে আমার চোখ এমন ছানাবড়া হয়েছিল মৃত্যুর সময়, কি দেখে এত ভয় পেল একটি দাগী চোর, খুনে! কেউ জানতে পারবে না আমার 'সেই রাতের' সেই ভয়ংকর অভজ্ঞতার কথা।।

Regret(s)

It was an ordinary weekend for Ravi. Wandering aimlessly in a city he still felt like an alien even after six years. As he boarded one of the last metro-trains, his mobile conked off as usual and he got irritated thinking of being bored for the next 25 minutes sitting idle. The train was empty; no one for him to observe and analyse as he often did to pass time. It was amongst the last trains that ran pretty late in the night, not on a very heavy traffic line and it was a weekend when almost everyone in the city was busy somewhere shedding the fatigue of mind and body off them.

Just as Ravi was readying to sit for the solitary journey home he saw her running down the stairs in a mad hurry to race against time. She jumped off two steps at a time; her hair sticking to her pretty face from sweat due to the effort and a little panic in her big doelike eyes. In a sudden rush of who knows what, Ravi went to the door of the train putting himself between the doors, caught the girl’s hand and pulled her in the train just as the door started closing in. As she stood catching her breath holding the rod beside the seats, he thought of the moment or the fraction of it- quite Bollywoodish, no one might believe it and even he was having hard time believing that such a thing would happen to him; not that he was a dreamer or romantic for that matter. 

The proof of it all came just then as Ravi heard her say thank you for his help. The train had gotten lost in the tunnels at optimum speed and she had started her story at a faster pace without him asking anything. Her voice mesmerizing, her smile captivating and her laugh even more so… She had gone to this movie of the new heartthrob she desperately wanted to see with a couple of her friends and their boyfriends (no mention of her own was a bit satisfying somewhere in Ravi’s mind). She would not normally be allowed to go for a late show had her father been in town. But she needed to get back home asap; her mother was worried for her and if she wasn’t home by the time her Dad called, it would be a havoc when he came back the next day.

Ravi kept listing to her babbling which may or may not have been actually directed towards him, as two more stations passed by they both were yet to oblige any of the empty seats of the metro that are viciously fought for during the busy hours. She was telling about her friends, who had come with their boyfriends on bikes. She was to take an auto from the theater back home only to realize that it was one of those days that the city’s auto drivers were on strike. A couple of them that were there asked some insane amount for a journey of just a few kilometers. She was in no mood to entertain them and be broke all month through. When threatening them with police complaint for refusing to take a female to her destination at late hours did not budge them, she decided to take the metro. Her house was quite close by to the metro station which was just 5 stations away and if she hurried she would catch atleast the last metro home. This brought Ravi to the realization that his good times were soon to be over as one of the next two stoppages will be the last of the most amazing journey he had. But then what more could he hope for, he hadn’t really become a brave knight in the shining armour for battling a metro door for her that she would grace him with her phone number or something. That’s getting a bit too ‘filmy hopeful’ he thought; but then she took out her cellphone. Was it to be a day of fortunate circumstances for Ravi like never before in his otherwise ordinary life? But his hopes were diminished within seconds as she had taken it out only to receive her mother’s call. She assured her mother she was safely on her way back and barely a station away and no she didn’t need her ‘good-for-nothing’ brother to come pick her up at the station; though in the end she accepted that she would take a rickshaw. ‘Sibling rivalry’, Ravi thought amusingly; remembering his own little sister back home.

By the time she had finished with the call the train was languidly entering the station she had been intended for. A thought came to Ravi’s mind- should he offer to accompany her to her home or atleast to the rickshaw stand till she gets a rickshaw. Ravi’s own station was still a couple more ahead but he could himself get a rickshaw afterwards or even walk down the remaining 2-3 kilometers. That won’t be an issue. But will that be a bit too bold to ask her? Surely he intended only for her safety at this late hour, but what if she thought otherwise? Who in there days and times are so helpful without any motive? She might take it as an undue offer of assistance or even think that he was making a move. Maybe it was just that tiny bit of his brain that selfishly wanted to extend this amazing journey little longer by accompanying her or the adrenalin which had settled down by now from the door incident that made him hesitant. He heard her say goodbye to him with another one of her mesmerizing smiles; that he wasn’t sure he would get to see any more. A pang of regret set inside Ravi as the metro door started closing behind her. 

Next morning when Ravi woke up he was almost over it, dismissing the incident almost as if it was just a beautiful dream – half remembered, half forgotten. He picked up the newspaper as per his daily morning ritual. As Ravi turned the paper and started reading the little piece at the bottom, a dreadful regret crept inside him, choking him. If only he had been bold enough in the end, if only he had gone with her, if only he hadn’t been so mesmerized by her that he had lost awareness of his surrounding so much so that he failed to notice the three rowdy drunk boys couple of bogeys behind them, he could’ve given her a fighting chance, he could’ve saved her from being just another number in the ever increasing rape statistics of the city, from being yet another candle at the India Gate, from being just a false name without a face – a face that Ravi was all too familiar with, only what was left of her with him with his regret(s).

আমি নির্দোষ ছিলাম - Aami Nirdosh Chhilam - I was Innocent

Note: Wrote this story long back in school, that was published in a magazine then. Retrieved it now and hence posting the scan copy. Excuse the childish writing....

Destiny

When Prakash came out of his office and lit a cigarette, it was well past 10 of a chilly winter night in Delhi. Prakash just loved such winter nights, but the scene before him was also like his own life, dark, cold and alone...

His own place was about 8-10km away from his office. But as it was late and there were no buses running, so he just kept walking towards the auto stand about a km away. It was usual routine for Prakash to get out late from office even if there wasn't much work; afterall what did he have to look forward to, to get back. An empty 1BHK apartment! Who'll believe the happy go lucky person like him now lived in isolation from everyone...

But this wasn't the case till couple of years back; Prakash had a great job as a software engineer in a big MNC in Bangalore. The job he immediately got in campus placement after he had passed out with flying colours from IIT Delhi. But he wasn't just brilliant in studies, he was a true all-rounder. Be in music, dance, acting, art or writing he had it all in him and this made him the prize catch for all the girls.

But all that changed about a year and half back. That Saturday evening when Prakash was coming back from a night out party with his friends, he saw a girl on the side of the road ready to jump before the raging traffic. Prakash stepped on the accelerator and reached her just in time to block her way from jumping before a fast approaching SUV. His already adrenaline rushed heart got another jolt when he saw the girl's face. It was a face he recognized and yet it was unknown. It was Neelima, but she did not look at all like the beautiful, lively girl Prakash had a secret crush in college. Dark circles under the most beautiful and mysterious eyes that looked like they had been shedding tears continuously for god knows how many days, from her face and appearance she looked as if she hadn't had decent food or sleep for days. He somehow managed to call a taxi to take her to his flat after parking the bike at a nearby parking-lot of a mall.

After reaching his flat he told her to freshen up while he made some sandwiches and coffee. She followed him mechanically when he showed her the washroom and came back just the same as if in a trance all this while. Prakash could tell she hadn't done anything except crying more. He came to her and asked if she recognized him, but the only response he got was "please, can I go?" Prakash told her who he was and tried jolting her back to reality. After looking at his face for a little while as if she was finally coming back to reality, Neelima recognized it was the face of her best friend from college. Somehow it just made her break down to heavy sobs and tears. An awkward Prakash after hesitating a little just could take it no more and hugged her close and kept soothing her with calming words. After a while, time unknown to both, her sobs finally came to control and he brought her the sandwiches and coffee.

Just one bite of the sandwich and Neelima was again back to crying and Prakash again had to sooth her. He was worried, what had happened to the always smiling and always joking girl who was his partner in crime in many practical jokes he had pulled in college to have broken down in such a way. It was a great effort by him that managed to get the sobbing girl to eat a bit. After pushing away the dishes, seeming to gain a control over herself, She asked him to let her go. He promptly refused it by saying she would be staying in the guest room for today.  Neelima kept refusing but Prakash was adamant. Finally she burst out, “EVERY ONE IN THIS WORLD WANTS ME TO GO AWAY, WHY DON’T YOU LET ME GO TOO….” Prakash Replied, “I DON’T KNOW ABOUT OTHERS, BUT AM NOT ONE OF THEM, SO YOU ARE STAYING HERE TILL I KNOW WHAT’S WRONG AND FIND A SOLUTION TO IT.”  “There is no solution Prakash, I am what is wrong with me…” saying this she was again back to sobbing. Something in Prakash just compelled him to take the shaking body of Neelima in his arms and hug her close. May be this is what she needed, some closeness, to feel needed; it just broke the damn of words that told her sad story.

In college besides being best of friends, Prakash and Neelima were also the biggest competition for each other as the most brilliant, most versatile and most popular people in the college. If Prakash was the prize catch for every girl in college then Neelima was the same for every boy. Secretly even Prakash admired his best friend a lot, but he never was able to say it to her even though they both shared everything with each other. It was not only fear of losing the friendship over rejection in love that held him back, another reason was her family, not only they were rich and powerful but also very orthodox in matters of love and marriage. She was also not someone who really was into love and romance, what she wanted was to be free spirited independent girl and never really gave any of her suitors much attention. After college just like Prakash, Neelima too landed a good job with a reputed MNC and it gave her an opportunity to be independent on her own in a different city than her home town. Despite reservations from family she went to Pune and took the job. Even though they went far with their job, they remained in touch over mail, chat and phone. But with hectic work schedules even that touch started fading away. But Prakash never really could forget Neelima though a new development changed a lot in Neelima’s life. In office she met Suresh, her team leader on the project. And with time somehow while working, things started changing between them. The charismatic, always finding an excuse to laugh Suresh found a way to capture Neelima’s independent heart and as the time went by she fell deeply in love with him. 

But destiny was writing a different story here, as the project finished after almost a year, Suresh and Neelima were assigned to different projects. Finally he was even transferred to the Bangalore office for the new project, initially it was still ok, they used to meet over weekends when either Suresh would come to Pune or Neelima would go to Bangalore, but then one day Neelima got a news that she was both happy and scared to hear; She was pregnant. They needed to get married as soon as possible or else if her family got to know about this all hell would break lose. But as the weekend came things started to look much worse, Suresh was freaking out over the news, he kept on saying their careers weren’t at a point that allowed them to start a family, he needed more security, and if their relationship got known in the company they might lose their jobs. She kept insisting him to give it a proper thought but Suresh left that evening with much hurry. Over the next few weekends, she tried to persuade him, but he started avoiding her. He told her he was going off for some client meeting so he wouldn’t be able to come or meet her in Bangalore. Then to make the matters worse Neelima was called by her family to attend a cousin’s wedding where talks of getting her married loomed large during the celebrations. Her parents and close relatives kept an eye on the potential grooms. After the week long festivities were over Neelima went directly off to Bangalore rather than going to Pune, as she hadn’t heard much from Suresh over the past ten days. He had not called once and when she had called most of the time either he was too busy or too tired to talk.

It was two nights before the night Prakash had found Neelima, she had gone straight to Suresh’s apartment but he wasn’t there. She went in using her duplicate keys and something stuck her odd. The things were not really in place, many boxes were in various stages of packing, it was a scene that meant the person living there was getting ready to move out soon, very soon. She was really worried now. She called Prakash but no one picked up. She kept trying for hours but there was no response. She didn’t know when she fell asleep in the couch, but she was rudely awakened from violent shaking by someone. It was Suresh, he was drunk, and he kept on asking why she was here. She tried to explain, even told him that they should talk later as he was too drunk to have a logical discussion. But he started screaming that he didn’t want her there, and finally came what had never happened in her life, Suresh hit her, even her strict father had never hit her all her life. And it didn’t stop in one slap; he hit her repeatedly and even tried to take her out of the apartment by her hair. Somehow she managed to get out of his grasp and shut herself in the bedroom to pass the night crying sleeplessly. The next morning though Suresh was at his best behavior, he even said sorry and told her that due to work pressure and tension he had gotten too drunk and it would never happen again. He assured her that he would have a serious talk with her in the evening after he came back from an important meeting. Neelima still wanted to believe him, wanted to give him the chance, and she waited for him all day, without feeling like or actually eating anything, even thought she had prepared Suresh’s favorite dish. The day rolled on to evening and evening to night and yet again there was no sign of Suresh. Finally at about 2 am in the night he came, again drunk, she asked him to eat but he threw the food saying he hated it, pushed her to the floor and went inside the bedroom locking the door.

Next morning, Neelima had enough, she wanted to resolve it one way or another, and as soon as Suresh came out she was before him with all her unanswered questions and accusations. This time he was in no apologetic mood; if he was bad in drunken state, he was worst in full senses. He abused her profusely alleging she was trying to destroy his career with false allegations and he wanted nothing to do with her. On repeated confrontation by Neelima, he became a monster. He didn’t stop at just slapping her but beat her up using anything he could lay his hands on, and finally threw her out saying he was going to Europe for an onsite work by evening flight and would never ever be back to see her face. Neelima was broken; mentally, emotionally and physically. She didn’t know what to do, where to go, her world had shattered and she could do nothing about it. She couldn’t go back to her family to seek help. She knew them too well for that. They would kill her first and ask explanations later for the dishonor she brought to the family. And anyways she had no reason to approach them, Suresh would be beyond her reach by the time any help came to her, and she felt he had already gone too far from her reach. No, she had no option left but to accept her fate, she would save her family from doing the dirty work, she would not live, she would kill herself. She was ready to act on her resolve just when Prakash had found her on the street.

By the time Neelima had finished with the story of her misfortune, Prakash was prancing all across the room with rage saying “that bastard….should kill the bastard”, but he knew in his heart, there was nothing to be done; Suresh was much farther away to do anything. The despair and frustration in his mind slowly started to form into a determination, the determination to safeguard Neelima, and her unborn child from the world. 

With this steely resolve Prakash told Neelima that if she should trust him he would want her to stay with him without any fear, after all as friends they had pledged to always be there for each other. No matter what argument or logic she tried to give against it, he refuted vehemently and his brilliant brain was working superfast; working out details on what to do on her family and office front, his own work, and how to best take care of his best friend. Slowly they both settled into a rhythm of life. After getting Neelima out of her job and making a story to her family about her joining his firm, they got into the mode of waiting for the day. As the time passed by both started getting used to each other, while Prakash started enjoying coming back from work and spending time with Neelima taking care of her, she too made her own efforts to make his two-room flat a home for him. As D-day started approaching, they became both apprehensive and excited about the future beyond as they both started nurturing feelings for each other that they both seemed to be superstitiously avoiding to admit even to themselves.

The day actually came even before they thought it would be, clearly it was to be a case of a little premature birth almost a month before the stipulated date. As Prakash saw Neelima being taken to the OT, he said to her, “Come back soon, need something important to talk to you”. Neelima in her heart knew for sure what he wanted to say, and she was ready to accept his proposal. It was to be the happiest day of their lives. But again destiny had some more twists to play in the game. Neelima went in, but never came back; neither she, nor her child. Some complications developed late during the delivery and despite best efforts of the doctors, they couldn’t save her and the child was a stillborn. The news shattered Prakash to the core, as if everything from his life was taken away by a cruel joke of destiny.  He just couldn’t believe that he had lost Neelima, his best friend and love of his life again and this time forever. After few days, he left not only his job but also the city that somehow only gave painful memories of his Neelima. He moved to Delhi, the city where he had spent most memorable beautiful time with her…

Deeply immersed in those thoughts Prakash never had an inkling to the fast approaching danger towards him. The Honda City driven by few drunken youngsters who had lost full control over it rammed into him from behind. Prakash hit the bonnet, then the windscreen and then he was thrown forward. Lucky for him the car swerved the other way and he was saved from going under its wheels, still he was gravely injured. The accident somehow brought the rogue youngsters to some senses and the best they could do was drive away as fast as they could from the scene. Some of the vehicles passing by stopped and people came out to see the situation. One of them was….Shreya!!!

For Shreya the scene before her was a twisted joke of destiny. The man there lying on the road was just her subordinate, so at the most her reaction should be of empathy. But then the man here was somehow a bit more or may be a lot more. Shreya knew Prakash from much before he came to the company under her. Infact, he was a bit senior to her in the company in Bangalore he used to work. She used to like him, more than like she had admired and even held a strong crush bordering to love with him. He was a legend in the organization back then, just like in college, with his extraordinary presence of mind and logical thinking in solving hardest of issues. Often his bosses would cite him as an example to others. Some became very jealous and some ardent admirers. Shreya was ofcourse among the second group. She would go to him for help for a real issue or just as an excuse to talk to him and he would always be ready to help her or any one else who came to him. They became very good friends and infact she believed that they had become more than good friends, until that day…the day Neelima reentered into his life.  As they say half knowledge is very dangerous and as she knew very little of Neelima-Prakash relationship, she developed all sorts of misconceptions about them and their relationship. She started hating him; so much so that she soon left that job and went back to Delhi, her home city, to work in her uncle’s firm.

After almost a year and half, Prakash also joined the firm on the behest of one of his college buddy who used to work here. But as he had a gap of around a year that he didn’t do anything so he became a subordinate to Shreya. Though from his friend she got to know most of the real story but somehow something in her never made her fully comfortable about him, their relation never became as cordial as before. But then Prakash was nothing more than just civil curtsey to anyone. He just did his work without mingling or socializing much with anyone, even with his friend he was never seen to be very joyous. Between Shreya and Prakash, they both acted as if they had never known each other before or they were any friendlier than a boss and her subordinate. Shreya had, post Bangalore, become very guarded in her social activities, especially in her uncle’s firm she had become totally career minded and wanted to reach the higher echelons as soon as possible.

The police siren broke Shreya off her reverie; the police inspector came and started asking people if they knew what had happened or if any of them knew the victim. Something snapped under the hard shell of hers, she came forward and identified herself. She demanded prompt action for getting him immediate medical attention. Her influential position, name of her uncle and his firm did get her that and in no time the ambulance was carrying her and Prakash towards one of the best medical institutes of the country.

When Prakash had reached the hospital, the doctors there were very skeptical, his condition was very critical on the first look. Further examinations proved that his head injuries were not fatal, however, the condition of his legs were critical. The direct impact, both with the bonnet of the car and later with the divider, had smashed both knees to bits. What transpired for next four months though was nothing short of miracle. Not only did they helped his physical recovery but also somehow healed both his and Shreya’s mental wounds. The challenge of his situation had filled her with a new vigor to achieve a new goal of life, to get him well. After almost a month in the hospital for his initial recovery, she took him to her own apartment. He couldn’t walk, as it would take time to get adjusted to replaced knees. Though his medical insurance or Shreya’s own money was enough to foot his medical bill and afford proper medical care with expert attendants, she had taken charge of his care and the nurse was just to her help. Prakash showed initial resistance to her, her adamant nature only allowed him to have his insurance to take care of his medical bills.

Shreya got immersed with taking care of Prakash and also got on with the task of getting those guys involved in the accident brought to justice. When the culprits were caught, she felt an immense relief which translated into a realization. She now truly realized what kind of responsibility he had felt for Neelima, how enraged he must have been over the guy who had betrayed her. She felt those same emotions of protectiveness and enragement for him and the culprits and she may not have had half the association with him than what he had with Neelima. She realized that her feelings for him now ran much deeper than just the infatuation and hurt pride of past; it had transformed into high respect and deep love.  On the other hand, Prakash too couldn’t remain unaffected by Shreya and her will to get him better. He remembered how she used to be when he had first met her, full of childish exuberance and charming nature, and then the next time he had met about a year and half later, cold to the core, completely businesslike. Now the Shreya he was seeing was a much mature mix of both, she had found her joyous nature that even filled him with a smile along with the same steely determination for his recovery that drove her in her professional life. Seeing her, he started gaining a will to live and recover; he understood her feelings and also recognized his own budding feelings for her. He also realized that now he couldn’t leave her; that would break her just like he broke down after Neelima’s death or may be worse. No he couldn’t let it happen, so it made him more determined to get better for Shreya’s sake, for their future’s sake. 

It was a very good day for Shreya, she was almost over the moon with happiness. Today she and Prakash had a very deep conversation regarding their future together and even though he felt that him still not being fully fit or being able to walk without support was a hindrance towards their relationship, she negated vehemently all his doubts and apprehensions. She was not one to let go of this opportunity and she didn’t. It was decided between them that they would get married in six months come what may. The calling bell suddenly broke Shreya off her thoughts of the future. When she opened the door she was surprised to see the guy whom her uncle wished to get her engaged and eventually married. She was never much in love with this guy but now seeing him standing on her doorstep suddenly took her aback. He was a key top executive of their firm seeing their Europe operations; she had some interaction when during her Europe tours and went on a few business dates too. Even though he had a charming way of dealing with people, somehow, it seemed to her sometimes to be too eager to please. By the time she could react in any way he had already given her the rose bouquet and was on his way to hug her, but he suddenly stopped in his track seeing Prakash wheeling his wheelchair to see who it was. Both guys seemed surprised to see each other. Before Prakash could react or Shreya could say something, the question or the statement was thrown at them, “So this is the employee of ours whom you have been very kind to these days, it seems he is always at the right places in the wrong time.” Shreya couldn’t think of anything else but an introduction to clear the awkwardness prevailing. “Uh ya, this is Prakash …and Prakash, this is our Europe Operations Head, Su…..resh!!!” What she saw when she looked at Prakash, and the millions of thoughts that came crashing into her head for those few seconds were enormous. Prakash was standing, without any help infront of his wheelchair, which a face and eyes full of rage and anguish, that scene was a trigger enough for her to go into the story of Prakash and Neelima’s life and identify who Suresh was. Destiny has played its final game and life has come to a full circle…

The decision was clear in Shreya’s mind and she didn’t waste any time in going by Prakash’s side to take his hand into hers to give a calming effect to him, and said, “Mr. Suresh, you are mistaken, he is in the right place at the right time…its you who is in the wrong place at the wrong time…so please excuse us!”

---The End---

Night, Rain and Moon

Note: - Before I begin my story I must acknowledge the invaluable contribution of my friend Pratip Biswas on this story. I got the inspiration for this story during a discussion with him on the three elements mentioned in the story. Frankly the elements, the concept, the theme evrything came from his words, I just wove them in a stupid story. Its like he provided all the beautiful flowers and I just put them in a thread to make the garland. I can take virtually no credit for it.

Poet Pradip, the greatest poet of his time wrote about the beauty of only three things – Night, Rain and Moon. He was also exceedingly handsome and most eligible bachelor of the country. His chiselled face accentuated by long curly hair along with a well built physique made him the fantasy of all women. But no earthly beauty could impress him, as he was so fascinated by the beauty of the three elements of his poems. No mortal woman could attain those standards of perfection, not even the exceptionally beautiful princess of the kingdom he lived in.

She was madly in love with him, even though princes and kings from around the world wished to marry her. Sadly though what she found was his rejection, which was too much for her. She committed suicide, but before death she said her ominous last words "The one who made me lose my love and gave me death, will find his love and yet won’t recognise her till he is on his death bed"

One night the poet was sitting on his balcony trying to think up some new poetry. He was almost half asleep, when he heard beautiful singing coming from a distance. He tried to find out the source of the sound. As he came out of his house and started walking towards the music he understood what he was hearing was a song sung by woman with ethereal voice. He had never heard such beautiful voice, such melody. It made him spellbound and he kept on walking towards her in a daze. Then he saw one of the most beautiful women he ever saw. Her hair black as the night, dark big eyes as deep as the night sky, she was epitome of beauty. And what was most surprising to him was the song she was singing, the lyrics was his own poem on beauty of night. But her melodious voice had given it a life of its own.

Seeing Pradip coming towards her the woman stopped singing and stood up. Pradip asked, "Who are you oh beautiful maiden?"

"I am Nisha, may I know which prince am I having the fortune of speaking to?" said the woman.

"Oh no, the fortune is mine, to hear such melodious voice and meet the beautiful owner of it. I am Pradip, no prince just a small poet. I wonder if you have heard of me, because the lines you just made immortal by singing have been penned by me".

Nisha exclaimed, "Oh you are the great poet Pradip! Pardon my bashfulness, but your poetry has touched my heart and soul. And even before I ever saw you, I have fallen in love with you. Now that I see you in person before me, you are exactly like the man of my dreams. Will you take me as your lover, your partner, oh master of lyrics?”

It was a proposal that took Pradip by surprise. She was certainly the most beautiful woman he ever seen, the beauty of her singing had even surpassed her physical beauty. But he was a man of poetry; he had dedicated his life and love to poetry and his favourite subjects Night Rain and Moon. How could he let a mortal woman dislodge him from his aim in his life? No matter how tempting her offer was he couldn't accept it. And as soon as he had this realisation, he refused it with most politest of words. Nisha had a surprised and sad look in her beautiful eyes hearing his refusal, but she accepted it and saying thank you for his kind words, she suddenly evaporated and before he could even be surprised over this dramatic event, he woke-up with a start, he found himself in his own balcony, sitting in the chair and the first rays of sun had started to lighten the world.

It was about a year after that incident, Pradip was called to the neighbouring kingdom by their king to recite his poetry. He was going through a jungle and it was raining heavily. Suddenly he heard the sound of "payal", someone dancing to a mesmerising tune and beats. He stopped the coachman and despite his protest Pradip went out in search of the dancer. A little distance away in the clearance he saw a small yet pretty hut and from inside the hut coming the sound of the payal and dancing. He hesitated a bit, but he saw the door ajar and went in. The scene before him stunned him. A woman of exceptional beauty was dancing with abandon. Her expressions, her mudras, her movements all showcased her virtuoso in the art of dancing. Her beauty was exceptional, every curve of her body was made to excite a man beyond senses, they moved more provocatively with her dance as if to spellbind every mortal that beheld the spectacle of her dancing. As Pradip gave more attention to her dance he was astonished to find that she was actually enacting a poem of his own, written on the beauty of a rain drenched earth and its creatures enjoying the boon of Indra.

The woman suddenly stopped dancing as she saw unknown man at her doorstep. She asked him politely, "Oh gentleman, what do I owe the pleasure of your company and pray what is your good name?"

A bit embarrassed that he had encroached upon the privacy of the lady uninvited, Pradip said, "I’m very sorry to intrude upon you like this. I was going through the forest, that’s when I heard the sound of your payal and the beats of your dancing pulled me towards here. I am just a small poet but I noticed that you are enacting the poem of mine. I must compliment you that you have rendered it a beautiful soul that I couldn't give it. May I know the name of such talent?". His words brought a glow of surprise and happiness in the beautiful amber eyes of the woman that radiated throughout her beautiful face. She said, "Oh my lord, I can’t believe this, you are poet Pradip, the man whom I, Versha, have dreamed since I heard your poems from the woodcutters. Oh how happy I am today. Please do stay, let me have the pleasure of your company for long, I will make sure you have the time of your life." It was as tempting an offer as any, no mortal man would ever refuse such an offer, but Pradip was no ordinary man. He was on journey of his life, the biggest king of north India had called him, an opportunity given to the rarest and most talented of jewels of the country. And this would give him a great name as a poet throughout the country, which was his goal of life. Hence even in face of great pull of Versha’s offer, Pradip said, "Oh my lovely lady, what you say is extremely hard to refuse, but I’m on a opportunity of lifetime as a poet, and I am sorry at the moment I cannot take your offer, but I promise to come back to you exactly a month back on my return journey" and saying this he took leave of Versha.

One month later, when Pradip was returning from his extremely successful tour, he told the coachman exactly where to go to find Versha's hut. But when he reached the place near the clearing was supposed to be, there he found everything changed. Let alone Versha and her hut, there was no clearing there at all. He searched frantically the area and the nearby but there was no clearing, the forest was evenly dense everywhere. Confused and disappointed he came back to the town.

It was another year after that, Pradip had become a famous poet not only in his own kingdom but also in entire India and was constantly travelling to various cities and kingdom's across the country upon invitations from kings and other important people. Getting such fame and wealth, Pradip had forgotten all about Nisha and Versha, he was just wishing his poetry to be recognised across the seas throughout the world.

One day came an invite thats almost like his dream came true. It was an invite from the kingdom of Paras across the sea. He was to perform with the best in the world at their Badshah's court. It was a two months sail to the land of Paras, yet Pradip didn’t give another thought in accepting the invitation. In two weeks time he went on board the ship to Paras.

One night during the journey to Paras, the ship had anchored near the shore of an unknown island. The captain of the ship warned everyone. "Tonight is a special Poornima (full moon) night, no one to look at the moon and moonlight tonight. It’s polluted tonight, plays tricks with mind and makes people go mad. So we all rest tonight. Everyone to be in their quarters and no one will be outside on top deck after sundown."

Pradip found the order blasphemous. He thought haughtily, “How can these illiterate people believe in such a thing? There is nothing more innocent and pure than the moon and they accuse it of playing treachery!!” He wanted to openly rebel and go on the top deck; he anyway wanted to enjoy the Poornima outside, as it was a time when he got inspired to write some verses on his beloved moon. But on the ship, the captain's words were the law and open rebel wouldn’t solve anything. So until everyone went asleep in their cabins, Pradip just waited in his own cabin. After midnight when he was sure every soul on the ship was asleep, Pradip came out of his cabin and headed for the top deck above. As expected no one was out, the superstitious sailors in fear of the cursed moon were all asleep in their cabins.

Pradip reached the top deck and the beauty of the moonlit-night just mesmerised him. This was certainly the most beautiful poornima night he had seen in his life. Everything shined and glowed in the bright moonlight and even the ugliest of things looked as if the were silver jewellery. The sea around was transformed. It was no more the dark ominous sea of the night but it was sea of liquid silver – beautiful, mesmerizing and inviting. No wonder Pradip thought the sailors feared the night – so much beauty can make people insane.

Just as he was looking around, Pradip’s eyes went towards the island nearby. There at the shore he saw something. He went closer to the side from where shore was closer. It was silhouette of a woman sitting and she had something on her lap which she was holding. He tried looking harder, with the scene he now started hearing a mesmerising tune that was coming from that same direction. Highly curious, Pradip looked around and saw the emergency boats. He went there and after a long and hard effort he was successful in lowering one to the sea. He jumped on the sea himself near to where the boat was and swam to it. Once he was onboard the boat he started paddling towards the direction of the island shore where he had seen the woman.

As Pradip drew nearer to the woman he saw she was playing “Santoor” the instrument with hundred cords and the amazing music he was listening to all this while was coming from her playing it. It was hypnotic, the music, the moonlit-night and the woman. To Pradip she didn’t seem to be from earth, she was so fair that in the moonlight she was literally glowing as if the moon itself has comedown on earth and playing the music of heaven. Hearing the paddling of Pradip the woman looked up to see the boat pulling close. She asked, “Welcome sailor, to my small island, what is your purpose of visit, are you lost?”

“Milady, I am not a sailor, I am a small poet, was travelling in the ship that is anchored near the shore of this island. I was just enjoying the Poornima-lit night when I heard the heavenly music you were playing and I was drawn here.” replied Pradip.

“Oh poet, are you?” asked the woman. “I actually love poetry, in fact credit of the music you are attributing to me is actually inspired by a great poet’s work on full-moon nights. He is from the east, his name is Pradip, you must have heard of him?!”

Pradip was shocked to say the least, “How could this woman so far away from my country living in this deserted island know my name and my work.” Thought Pradip, he couldn’t help but ask, “Pardon my rudeness milady, but who are you, how do you know my name and my work?”

Now it was turn of the woman to be astonished, “Your name?! You are the great poet Pradip. Oh I am Chanda, I have heard sailors passing by here in their ships say your poems. They are amazing, I can’t tell you how much effect they have on me. I have always wondered, if the poems are so beautiful, how beautiful will be the one who wrote them. And you are certainly the most handsome man I have ever met. You truly complete my aspiration for a perfect man.”

Pradip was amazed at her words, he thought, “How can such a beauty be in love with him. May be my mind is being tricked by this cursed Poornima as the captain warned. A single woman cannot survive in this lone island. I must leave.” He politely said, “I am humbled and honoured by your admiration milady, but I regret, I cannot be with you, my love is poetry, I want to spread it across the world and this is my first chance to do so outside my country, I must journey on, I am sorry”. With those words Pradip took Chanda’s leave and started paddling speedily back towards his ship.

But fate had something else in her mind. Just as he was paddling back he didn’t see a submerged rock his boat hit the rock hard, the impact threw him overboard and his head hit the another submerged rock. As he was losing his consciousness he realised in his haste he had got trapped in a rocky patch near the island with submerged rocks and unpredictable waves. He was losing blood rapidly and along with it his life. He tried calling sailors in his ship but they were far, sleeping in their cabins inside the ship. He tried calling Chanda, thinking she might hear him, but through hazy vision of his closing eyes he saw far away at the shore of the island where he met Chanda, there was no one now. Death was imminent and slowly Pradip was getting engulfed in the darkness of death.

Suddenly he saw light far away, it was dark all around but at a distance he saw light. He felt himself standing in the middle of the darkness, and without thinking anything he kept on walking towards the light. When he reached near the light he saw three figures standing there. As he drew more near he recognised them, on the left was the melodious singer Nishi, in the middle it was the vivacious dancer Versha and besides her on the right was the enchanting musician Chanda. He was surprised seeing all three of them together, “Was he dreaming a dream induced by severe loss of blood, was it just his life’s best moments going around before him as he is dying” he thought, but it somehow felt different, as if it was happening for real and happening now. He heard his own voice asking the women, “Who are you? Are you angels of death? Am I dead?”

The tree woman smiled, it was Nisha who spoke first, “No Oh great poet, we are not angels of death, I am Nisha – I am the night, yes the very same night, whose mysteries and attractions you describe so fondly in your poetry”

Versha added, “Yes O dear poet, and I am Versha, the rains you so lovingly use to paint your poems with romance”

Finally Chanda spoke, “and I am Chanda, yes the moon, whose beauty you describe in your poems to be greater than any lover”

They all said in unison, “Yes we are the three main elements in your poetry, the elements you have proclaimed repeatedly are only worthy of loving. Oh great poet Pradip, your poems have not only touched the souls of mortals, but it also touched each of us, and we despite all the rules of the universe couldn’t help but to come to you are offer our companionship to you…but….”

What he was hearing was unbelievable, Pradip thought this can’t be, “My mind is playing tricks with me, it’s the cursed moonlight, the hit on my head and loss of blood is causing the hallucination.”

But the women said suddenly breaking his line of thought, “Its not a dream O great poet Pradip, the accident of your boat has caused your soul to be free of your body, and now it journeys to the other world. It is no dream, we are real, we all came to you in real, but you failed to recognise us, failed to recognise your love for us…”

Pradip realised within himself, they were telling the truth, the realisation hit him heard, he was aggrieved deeply, he thought “What a fool I have been, I have not only failed to recognise those beautiful elements in real that I have been portraying all my life in my poetry, I have squandered the chance to be with them for real, and now I am dead and my goal and mission of my life to spread my poetry world over, for which I even left all the offers of love is all over. With me my name too will be gone.”

Yet again as if reading his thoughts the three women said, “Don’t be so harsh on yourself of great Poet, Its not your fault, you were cursed by the maiden Princess’s final words and hence you were never could recognise us. But don’t be disheartened, your life’s goal is not lost, your body may have died today, but your work will be remembered till we three elements exist on this earth. Your work will reach every corner of this world, and every work of literature henceforth will try to portray us when it comes to beauty, love and romance.”

It was the first rays of morning light that the sailors woke up, first among them was the captain of the ship, before he was going to give the sailing orders he once gave a inspective look around though his telescope, as he was looking around he found something was floating at the rocky patch near the island. As he focused more he saw broken remains of one of his ship’s emergency boats, and a little away on the rocks was what seem to be a body. He immediately dispatched a search and rescue party towards the place. The party returned with the dead body of the poet Pradip who was sailing with them. Most of the sailors including the captain knew what a great poet he was. They gave him a respectful burial at the island. Later when the ship reached Paras, the captain personally took the works of poet Pradip to the King’s court there. Everyone including the king was deeply saddened by the news of poet’s death and they marked a ceremony in his honour. Where his poetry were recited, the king also declared the poems of the great poet Pradip will be published and sent across the world so that everyone across the world can enjoy the beautiful works.

I know the story I told may seem to be fiction or fantasy, it might seem all figment of my imagination. But if you are a poet or a writer, if you ever used Night, Rain or Moon in your creations, remember this, it was all because of poet Pradip that these elements are coming through in your literary work. 

Confession of a Killer

(This story is totally fictitious and any resemblance to any character living or dead is purely coincidental.)

(Caution: This story contains a disturbing theme and description of violence, so people who don’t have a taste for such things, please don’t read it)

Sitting here in this prison cell, staring at these sheets of papers that have been given to me as my last wish, the first thought that comes to my mind is, why I am writing this. It is not that this is going to get published and I would become a famous writer. And what do I care if I do become one, I will not be there to enjoy the glory anymore, in fact I am not even going to see the sunrise tomorrow. What I am writing is simply a peace of trash and those who will read it, that is if any one would ever see it, will find it extremely ghastly. Even if they do find the title interesting and think may be this killer has a story behind what he did, may be he was forced to do such a heinous crime, may be they would want to search for a point of sympathy for me or may be they would just read it to find out if I really did do it, I am sure they wouldn’t find anything like that and would not like to go further. So before anything else I should clarify, I did kill in cold blood and not because anyone did anything wrong to me. No one took my job away when I needed it, or the love of my life ran away with anyone and nor did I do it to avenge my family; actually I don’t even have a family or friend or anyone who I care about. That’s right, so no matter what the reader thinks, I simply “Don’t Care!”

Well then why am I writing all this for no apparent reason in my last hours. Because I do have a reason and it is the same as that for which I committed the revolting crime or before that all those drugs, alcohol and many such things I did…and that is for the rush of it. Yeah, the Rush, the High, the Kick, the Effect, whatever you call it, I just have been on a mad search for it all my life, well, at least since I can remember. I guess it started with that first smoke of Beedi with a rickshaw puller shared with me when I hadn’t even reached my teen years. That first smoke although was not much of a rush except the fear of getting caught, other than that it was just loads of coughing due to my shabby attempt at following his instructions on how to smoke. But somehow I knew I was on the path of seeking my greatest treasure, the rush. Then with my pocket money I started buying beedis and cigarettes. As with time my pocket money and allowances increased so did my craving for a bigger rush.

I know what someone with anti-drug agenda would say to this, that there are other ways to seek the rush, as others do, adventures like water rafting, sailing-surfing, skydiving, bungee jumping, fast driving and every other thing the adrenal junkies do. But then the rush I sought was somehow different, it was never the adrenal pumping action type. In fact I have a fear of height and I am not much of a swimmer either. How do I put it, well the rush I sought was for me at least more spiritual, being one with the spirit. Now, now I don’t mean any god shit here. I am no religious man. In fact I despise this prostitute called god and its religion business and all the pimps, who sell this god for the satisfaction called redemption to the clients – the sinners of the world. I never sought that empty comfort; I found the company of real prostitutes much more pleasing actually. Frankly I don’t believe I am a sinner or there is such shit as god, heaven and redemption exist.

Anyways, this is no anti-theology paper by an atheist and it certainly isn’t a prayer to god to pardon my sins. I am in no way regretting what I did or making any excuses for it. So, the reader can simply discard this as a last rambling of a mad man for I care.

As I was seeking more and more in my quest for the rush, I got to high school and there befriended those so called bad boys, who introduced me to newer sensations, drugs like marijuana, pot, alcohol, and cocaine. You name it and I had it even before I finished college. I even had to steal for it too, some of these “friends” of mine said that stealing gives a rush too, but somehow I found no rush in that. I rather didn’t go for that option after the first few times. Contrary to what some would believe with such habits I was no petty criminal, rather I was a pretty good student, did well in school, college and even landed a good job afterwards. And as I said I cared for none so I put all my earnings in my quest for the rush.

But as deeper and deeper I delved into the depths of drugs seeking the rush, I found I wasn’t actually getting that rush. I thought in the beginning, I had, but actually, I didn’t. No drug, no alcohol ever imbibed me like others around me. Even if I tried the best of the drugs known to the man, at least what I could find through my internet research, nothing really got me closer to what I sought. I became restless, I just had to seek the rush I craved somewhere else. But where and in what, that lingering question disturbed me to sleepless nights. Night after night I thought why, these things, that everyone said gives someone a great rush, a tremendous high, wasn’t working to the slightest for me.

The answer I got very unexpectedly on one such dark night while flicking through the television channels disinterestedly. I was caught suddenly by this murder scene of some low budget psycho murder thriller movie on a channel. Somehow, I felt at one with the psycho killer, I felt the joy, the thrill that I would actually get doing the deed myself. But I am no psycho, I sought the rush and I knew my way of doing it would be different, studious, calculated and full of relishing enjoyment of draining the life of a person. The rush would come as I would slowly see a man full of desire to live seek death overcome by the intense pain I would inflict both emotionally and physically. I could already feel the tingling sensation even thinking about it, planning my steps. I just had to, I needed to, and I must do it to seek what I was yet to achieve, the great rush, the rush of killing someone.

Hence I started my research on the greatest killers who have carved a name for themselves in the history books and criminal records. No, not because I wanted to copy their style or something but to devise my own unique style that would be very different from any of the master killers. But I was no where in finding that perfect way to kill in my research, the way that would be a perfect blend of both physical and emotional death. Then, as with many great discoveries and their discoverers, me too had that great ‘eureka’ moment. That day I not only found that way, I found my intended subjects. Now that I think about that moment I am pretty confused about that moment. What triggered what; was it finding the perfect subjects, well people can certainly call them victims, but for me they were subjects of my great masterpiece, that triggered my mind on the perfect way or was it the other way around. Anyways, that’s a question as confusing as may be the ‘chicken and egg’ question. So rather I should talk about my subjects. Well this family of three, a young couple with their four year old girl child moved into the neighbouring house that they had just rented after the husband got this big promotion which I later learned. As soon as I saw them I just knew that they were the ones. So full of life, with a freshness of starting upon a newer and better phase of life, looking forward to enjoy every aspect of it, they would be the best, to drain away all the happiness and the wish and will to live, just seeing them, filled me with a rush of anticipation for the things to come that though was not exactly what ultimately I sought, but much like a pre-orgasmic bliss.

With the rush from this discovery, finding my subjects so close, I was almost delirious with excitement. Now I just had to set my plan into motion, gather my tools to complete my masterpiece, and I was sure just like my action the tools that will do it needed to be exquisite. As I set to gather my tools I also started to work on something very essential, to get on friendly terms and eventually be very good friends with the family that will soon be the subject of my masterpiece. Unlike what people might imagine, this was not very difficult for me, as I said even though I care for none in this world full of people, I can jolly well be a very sociable and likable person with those I want to. I can understand people’s psyche very well and know what they like and dislike and mould my behaviour around them accordingly to make them fall for me very fast. Here it was much easier, this family being new to the neighbourhood and this being a neighbourhood of very few people, was very eager to make friends with anyone who extended their hand towards them. Only their hesitancy and fear of not being accepted held them back a little from extending their hand themselves. It was also their attempt to feel part of a society of people who I am sure been long negated their advances for being at a lower income group. So they were very eager to be accepted in this so called “elite” society. I was the first person from the neighbourhood to extend my welcome, the others were not as forthcoming with their welcome, mostly not even being very inviting because of their own busyness in their closed society. This and of course my tailor-made projected personality contributed to me being their fast friend in matter of no time at all.

As our friendship grew closer and closer I was getting more and more excited about the prospect of getting closer and closer to D-day. My weekend pool games at the club with the husband had turned into daily evening drinks after office abusing our respective bosses and sharing dreams and plans for the future. My cooking skills had the wife floored, we even shared notes and experimented with many new cooking recipes over the weekends and I had become a very frequent guest at their house for dinners. Then one day I got an ultimate proof that our closeness had reached the level I had desired since the beginning. It was their fifth wedding anniversary and they wanted to celebrate it together in a special way and so they asked me to baby-sit their daughter and the day being a Saturday it was anyways no problem for me, in fact I was truly glad to accept their request although for an entirely different reason than what they thought to be my very helpful and friendly nature. I was very friendly with the little girl too and she was truly an angel, it was really no problem looking after her for a day especially considering my excitement at what this opportunity is presenting me with soon.

Oh man, what a surprise they were in for, what an anniversary gift they are going to receive from me. I am sure as much elated I was in giving that gift, they wouldn’t be happy at all to receive it. To see this kind, good friend turn into a monster, and shatter all their beautiful dreams of their future into a nightmare of hell-like proportions on such a special occasion. I was all set for my masterpiece, the novel tools I needed to use were ready, my script was ready and it became so perfect with the occasion. Hence I lost no time in extending my invitation for a lavish celebration for their anniversary with my own cooking at my house the next day. Although they objected to the fact that it was they who should be throwing a party and giving me a treat rather than the other way around that I was suggesting, but I would have none of it. I told them with all the convincing sincerity that I truly considered them great friends and was happy at their happiness and wished nothing more to celebrate it. This was as a gift from me on their anniversary and my token of appreciation for making me part of their life. What I actually meant was for them being part of my great masterpiece and presenting me with the opportunity to get that elusive rush I was looking for since so long. In the end they accepted my invitation on the condition that they would also be included in the preparations, as the wife quipped that this might give her another opportunity to learn some new exquisite dishes, that she would be able to use to satisfy her hubby-dear’s appetite to get many more anniversaries together, as they say the way to a man’s heart goes through his stomach. We all had a great laugh at this, although I was actually laughing at her naivety for thinking about a future that would never ever going to come and we all started with our preparations for the special day. They for their anniversary, making plans as to how can they make it more special for the other and undoubtedly both had me as an advisor for their plans and me preparing for the day I have been waiting so long to find that greatest rush of all and of course none of them were even remotely aware of my plans.

At last after much plans and programmes on their part and me containing my bursting excitement the Saturday came. According to the plan they left the child with me in the afternoon and went away to a beach resort nearby to spend quality time on anniversary night with the promise to be back on Sunday afternoon to help me with the preparations of the special dinner that night. I had already completed all my final preparations for the big Sunday of my quest in the special room I had designed in the basement. As I knew with the little girl with me, I wouldn’t have much free time to do those, so I had come a little earlier on Friday and had everything completed in the night itself to my perfect satisfaction. I already had them convinced that calling the few other families for the party wouldn’t be that great an idea as they weren’t that excited about mingling with many people outside their circle and the cold response they had received from the neighbourhood for their housewarming party when they first came to the neighbourhood was a strong testament to my words, so the matter wasn’t pushed any further and it was as it remained to be strictly a family affair. So everything was set, the studio was ready, I was more than excited, should say elated at the prospect, the only thing now remained was my subjects to come back from their trip and the real art to begin. The Saturday went away pretty fine, the child as I said was no trouble at all, she too like her parents was very fond of me, and all the little games and stories I spun for her were her favourites. Some say one can fool grown-ups but to fool a pure hearted child’s eye is not possible, no matter how good your acting skills are. I guess I have broken those parameters too. May be I should’ve perused a career in acting; I surely would have become a superstar. But then the masterpiece I am going to be creating soon would be a bigger superstar than me as an actor ever and as I said I wasn’t seeking fame, but the great rush.

At last the day had come. I know if any one has been reading this just would be hoping that such a day would never have come, but yes, sorry to disappoint you, but I did get what I wanted so much for so long. On Sunday afternoon the glowing couple returned from their anniversary honeymoon with glowing faces and with happy spirits. Their daughter was also very happy to see her parents after a day’s separation. And seeing all of their cheerfulness I was elated that it would be such a great feeling, the rush that I have been seeking since long, to not only take all of this away but to fill them with such despair that even death would look peaceful to them in comparison to my company so much so that they would be thanking me for killing them. Amidst such an air of cheerfulness all around we prepared a lavish dinner that had all the exquisite dishes we had experimented since long. The menu would have given complex to any five star hotels boasting of a great multi cuisine expertise. I had told them I had a very special gift for them post dinner and all of them seem to be bursting with excitement to know and see what it was, if only they had known how much more excited I was in giving it to them and how their excitement was going to get drained away after receiving the gift of such an unimaginably painful death. After dinner I brought out a special bottle of Champagne that I had for this occasion only, which they thought was my special gift and thanked me for everything from the Champagne to the lavish dinner and for taking the trouble to baby-sit their daughter on the weekend for their sake. I could only smirk at this as the Champagne wasn’t actually the gift but only the way for them to get to the real gift, I had it drugged and as I had thought the semi-powerful drug would work on them, they were starting to feel the effects even when only half the bottle was consumed by us, my drug-worn body though was holding firm without any effect. Anyways I was pretty careful not to consume much of it and had them have it more, as I didn’t want to adulterate the great rush of killing with any little effect of drugs. By the end of the drinks though I had got my expected results, the couple was totally senseless with the effects of the drug and I was totally ready to prepare the final stage of my plan. The child was already put in the bed after dinner before we started with the Champagne. So then I took all the three unconscious bodies to my studio in the basement and put them in their respective positions. The stage was now set, actors were on the stage and it was only matter of 3-4 hours of wait before they woke-up for the master act to begin.

During this time I had a little nap just to get totally freshen-up before all the excitement became too overbearing, and when I awoke and went into the dungeon again, I saw everyone stirring a bit although had not gained much consciousness. But I needed their full attention, so first with water I got them awake, they were still very confused specially finding themselves completely naked and bound in my special chairs which were pretty much like those found at a dentist’s chamber. I had prepared a special drink that I have found a great antidote to any drug effects over my years of experience with drugs and I had them drink it. After a while they were quite awake now and started questioning me why they were bound like this, their confused state about the things is surely understandable. So I gave them a bit of introduction about how the champagne was not exactly the real gift but actually the being part of my master game that was the real gift, not for them but for me.

This was a game that they all must play, no choice to back out. As it was the occasion of their anniversary, I told them that the husband and wife together would play it. The victory prize, their unharmed daughter returned to them who as they could see was sleeping on a chair nearby. By the time I had shown them the entire apparatus which was fitted with their special chairs those two were sitting in, I could already see the cheerfulness and the drowsiness of the drink disappear from their eyes and get replaced with genuine fear. The apparatus was pretty simple actually; I had it made with some inspiration from the good old French guillotine. The blades here too were there, hanging overhead but they were fitted on a wheel that was movable horizontally on a rope that went over the chairs. The game itself was even simpler. The husband was playing choose between daughter and wife. I had a butcher’s knife with me that could easily cut limbs of a 4 year old child, so as to save his daughter’s life he had to just open his mouth the trick here was that in his mouth he would have the rope that was connected to the blade over his wife’s chair and as soon as the rope is out of his mouth the sharp blade would fall on the position below, which was positioned on the wrists of his wife and as the blade would be let go it will come down cutting her hands from the wrist down. So if he chooses to save his daughter he just had to open his mouth for which he had 10 seconds’ decision time before I began cutting their child’s limbs. On the other side the wife’s game was similar but she had different goal. She too had an end of rope in her mouth that was connected to the blade over her husband’s chair. So if her husband decides to save their daughter and by letting go of his rope, she has to hold her primal instinct to scream from the immense pain she would be feeling so that she could save her husband from meeting with the same fate as hers and get his hands chopped off from the wrists. In a situation when the husband decides to save his wife rather than their daughter then she would have a chance to save their daughter too the same way her husband has, by opening her mouth and consequentially put the blade on her husband. There was to be five rounds that they had to go through for the game to end. In the first round the blade was aimed at their wrists as I mentioned earlier, in the second it would be taken above and positioned over their elbows, in the third after they have gotten their hands chopped (if they decide to save their daughter rather than themselves that is) then we move on to their legs and the footrest of the chair would come up and hand rest would go as the wouldn’t have any hands to need it. So in third the blade would be positioned over their ankles and in fourth it would be positioned over their knees. So if they go through all the four rounds successfully to save their daughter’s limbs and possibly her life as the pain of getting her limbs chopped off would surely be so excruciating for her that she would die of it even before all the rounds ended. The fifth and final round was of course “Who dies” round, the parents needed to decide who among them should get their head under the guillotine to save the child and leave the other helpless handicap parent to look after her. But if in any round they decide not to save their daughter and during any of rounds before the fifth and final one their daughter dies, the parents would find their heads under the blade too but if the child manages to save her parents by not dying before the final round, she gets her head cut off by me and the parents can go away whole and well from the game, with their daughter’s little head as their souvenir from the night.

All the while I was giving them all these details, they simply wasted time by shouting abuses and then begging me to let them go rather than actually listening to my explanation of the game. Damn, how rude of them, really no appreciation in them for such a brilliant game I had invented just for them on their special anniversary day – A true test of mutual love and affection, a test through endurance, sacrifice and swift decision making. That was really annoying me like hell – their abuses and their lack of interest, I mean I was giving them chance to be part of one of the greatest masterpieces ever, surely they should appreciate the gesture. I just had to make them listen and so I went to the daughter got her awake and put my knife to her throat so at to get her parents to be quiet and told them there was no backing out, no leaving the game before the final round, I mean what the hell, this wasn’t one of those stupid TV game shows where you answer questions and win money and can leave the game any time you want to save the money you have earned already, here their own and their precious little daughter’s lives were at stake, can’t they understand how serious the game was.

Well at least after this they understood or may be gave up knowing that their pleas wouldn’t help and they just have to go through with it. So I was happy to start my stopwatch to begin the first round. I came behind the wife running my hands over her naked body in front of her husband telling him how beautiful wife he had and he should really think hard if he surely wanted to destroy this beauty that too on their wedding anniversary. What kind of husband would want to do such a despicable thing, I mean a child he could surely have if he is together with his wife. But then may be thinking about doing a thing to such a beautiful wife on such a special day, he really didn’t deserve her, maybe I should have her and kill both him and his daughter. The burning eyes of the husband and the cringing of the wife under my touch was exactly the reaction I had sought from my words and almost at the 10th second of my counting I heard the rattling and the smack of the blade coming down on the wife’s hands cutting them from the wrist down. It was really hard for me to decide if the piercing cry of the wife from the pain was louder or the howling of the husband on seeing his wife in such an agony was, but then I didn’t have to think longer on this for more than couple of seconds as the wife’s cry of pain had ensured that her end of the rope connecting the blade above her husband was out of her mouth and the husband soon met with the same pain as his wife of getting his hands cut from the wrist down. I was delirious with joy about how well everything had worked untill now, and the feelings I was having inflicting such emotional and physical pain on these people. If these initial feelings of mine were anything to go by I was surely on the way to get that elusive and exclusive rush I have been seeking all this while. Their cries of pain and anguish had woken up the child too, and seeing the horror in front of her she too had joined the crescendo of cries of her parents. By now I also had to ensure that my subjects didn’t die on me before my grand finale so I put in some ice on their wounds to have them sustain longer. Hearing voice of their daughter and the concern for her brought them out of their miserable crying and I was ready to begin the second round. I congratulated the husband on winning the round by successfully saving his daughter and told the wife what a bad wife she was that she couldn’t save her husband and her own pain was more to her than saving her husband. I certainly wouldn’t want such a wife, no matter how beautiful she was, and then I have seen much better beauties than her. The husband started pleading again to leave his wife and daughter but what was the use I said. I mean would he like to have such a wife who puts herself first than him, I told him to think if the decision to save the daughter was left to her initially than on him would she have chosen the child over saving herself and her hubby dear sacrificing this pretty little innocent child for her own life and comforts. I don’t know if my words did it or if the unbearable pain didn’t allow him to keep his mouth shut longer but in the second round he let go of the rope much before than the last round. As I had already adjusted the position of the blades, this time the blade came down precisely over the elbow of the wife cutting the rest of the hand out, her howl of pain was so much that I almost got worried that she might not live through it, but may be hearing her husband’s cry as he too had met the same fate and the calling of their daughter somehow made her hold on. But she did pass out and I had to throw water on her to get her awake again. It was such a great sight to behold, pool of blood everywhere and in it lays four pieces of human hands, high pitched cries of these three people, two such beautiful human specimens deformed with their arms chopped off. Truly a masterpiece as I knew it will always be and the high, the rush I was feeling in all this is simply inexplicable, no drug, no adventure can give the same effect.

I congratulated them on completing the first part of the game without dieing and successfully managing to keep their daughter out of any physical harm. I adjusted the footrest of the chairs and brought them up, there too the feet of both the husband and wife was bound in two places just like in case of their hands, I adjusted the position of the blade again and asked them if they were ready to begin the next round or maybe they would like me to kill their daughter instead to spare them this extreme pain. The loud cry of no from both their mouths were enough that they still had the courage to survive this pain to safeguard their precious little child, what length people can go to save their genealogy, I thought smiling.

Anyways, after giving them a warning about the next round of loosing their feet and asking if they would still want to loose their remaining limbs for the child, at the end of the day no hands and afterwards no feet, how could they possibly take care of the little child with such a handicap, she is better off dead. I started the next round when they still cried heavily when I took the butcher’s knife in my hand to the child’s throat while speaking those words. But something happened in this round that changed the course of the entire game, weather for good or bad I am still unable to understand as in any case the planned outcome of the game remained the same. This time as the rope end was let go by the husband and the blade came down on the wife’s feet, cutting it away from the body she let out a guttural scream that wasn’t there before and as she let go of the end of the rope on the husband’s blade, her head went down behind. At first I thought she had gone unconscious again like the last round, but when I went to throw water on her, on a close inspection I found this time matter was much more serious, no amount of water or anything else would wake her up again, I had achieved my first kill of the night, the wife was dead, and the rush seeing her dead body, the kick just came rushing in so fast as this information sunk in. I don’t exactly remember what I did at that moment, whether I danced with joy or burst out laughing but this much I know as I recount my feelings that I was on a high that I had achieved never before seeing the blood soaked naked dead body of this once beautiful woman now with no arms and feet was giving me the extreme pleasure that I had imagined all along.

But her death had changed the game and as I realized this, I also became very hungry for the great rush I just had from the death of this woman and I needed more, as they say once a tiger tastes blood it becomes unstoppable, I too wouldn’t have stopped then for anything. I turned to the husband who by then had got an inking as to what had happened yet he was hysterically calling his wife, without giving a semblance of care to his cut feet that were bleeding profusely. I had to slap him quite a few times to get his total attention on me. I put on a very angry face, told him that his wife had disappointed me very much, to leave the game midway that too without my permission, and what kind of woman she was, leaving her husband and the little daughter in such a dangerous situation to face. But then her actions must be punished and the punishment must be taken by the daughter as the rules of the game I had already explained to them and even before the husband could comprehend what I really meant and what I was going to do I had brought the girl near his side by dragging her by her hair, and before even he could finish his first sentence of pleading for sparing her life, I had cut that pretty little head from her body and threw it on the lap of her father and the rush this time was even greater, to feel the exact moment of my knife cutting off that head and taking such a young life with my own hand was simply blissful. In that haze of mad rush then I saw that defeated and resigned look on the face of the husband, his eyes now incapable of shedding any tears, just looking blankly towards the severed head of his daughter in his lap, trying hard to touch it, hold it but unable to do that with his arms chopped off, the man who was just a few hours ago was so happy and full of life and enjoyment with a loving little family now had nothing to live for. Everything I had taken away from him, and then he started another cry of plea, the plea I was longing to hear from him, the plea to give him death, as the life now had become too unbearable for him, he begged and begged and begged while I just enjoyed this ultimate moment, the moment I had practically lived for such a long while, for which there was so much preparations required, such pains I had to go through befriending such silly people. They should actually thank me for this as I had now given meaning to their small meaningless life, they would no longer be the unknown faces lost among masses, just like my masterpiece that they were now part of they would become famous too, and they would become part of an elite group that no one else was part of. In such a happy daze talking about all such thoughts of mine to the husband I decided how the final life would end, he wanted death, he himself can take it, at least this much I can do for him for his great help in finishing my masterpiece. I brought up the end of the rope that was connected to the blade over him, pulled his head down by his hair, adjusted the blade alignments perfectly and gave the end of the rope in his mouth for him to finish the job, my masterpiece was about to be completed and they all would become great immortals with it. I guess he took one last thought of his happy days and his loving family, tried to reach out towards the wife with his cut arm and then he tried kissing the forehead of his daughter’s head that was lying inches away from his face on his lap but sadly I had held him just in such a position that his lips couldn’t touch it but in going for that kiss he released the rope and in matter of seconds his own cut head rolled besides his daughter’s on his own lap. The mission was accomplished, the greatest joy, the rush, the kick the high I was after so long at last I had with a complete masterpiece of death. A perfectly happy family was only a heap of broken and cut mass of dead bodies lying in the pool of their own blood, no more of their joyful laughter coming out or no more screams for mercy to spare their lives breaking the silence of the world. I was beyond the world myself, I was at a very high place, where I was only with myself, I was at one with my spiritual self, a niche that I had carved solely for myself, creating a true masterpiece of genius, inflicting pain both emotional and physical that had drained out all the willingness and joy of life from these people and given them the ultimate peace, death.

Well this was the story of why and how I killed, as I am sure those few who would have gone through it would know it had nothing to do with any personal vendetta or animosity but in pursuit of a pure pleasure of rush. May be people will appreciate the masterpiece I had created may be some would understand and agree with me about the rush I had. But I care fore nothing, whatever they want to think they surely can, I had done and achieved what I wanted to, I gave myself up to the authorities willingly as I knew, this great feeling of rush was exclusive and if I would have continued killing it would simply loose its edge with time and I certainly didn’t want that.

So here I am sitting in this jail writing this, call whatever, recounting a horror tale, confession on the death row, I just wanted to write it and feel the rush of entire episode once again and this writing has given me the opportunity to go through those moments and feelings once more. Now as the dawn breaks, I can hear the footsteps of the guards coming to take me to the death chamber, but I should tell everyone who thinks the death sentence is an apt punishment for me. Actually in the end moments when the husband was dying I discovered something, a rush that I can have, that was different but certainly same in intensity as killing someone, embracing the ultimate peace, the final moments when I would slowly go into that final sleep of death, it will bring me that rush, that kick that high that I am yet to achieve and that the husband would have felt when he let go of the rope that brought down the blade on his own head.