The Serial Killer

“Mom, I am leaving for office!” Rohan was getting late and he meant to let his mother know about it.

 “Rohan, wait!” Savita, Rohan’s mother seemed concerned.

‘Mothers!’ Rohan sighed to himself. His sigh was loud enough to fall into Savita’s ears.

“What did you say?” Savita frowned at this gesture of his son.

“Nothing Mom, what were you saying?”

“Son, Have you been reading newspapers lately? There is this person who kidnaps strangers and kills them. Recently, they have come to know that he introduces himself as a writer, after which he asks them to accompany him to a nearby store to show his pieces of work. He then takes them to a secluded place, which is unknown to anyone yet and then kills them cold-blooded.”

“Mom, do you believe all this stuff? Tell me a thing - Are the victims foolish enough to accompany a stranger to a secluded place? Those are just rumors!”

“I don’t know, but probably he would be hypnotizing the victims, after which they can’t do much but to follow him.”

“Do you hear yourself mom? You sound crazy.” Rohan laughed out loud.

“Son, I am just concerned, because this is happening in the route which you take to go to your office. Be careful son!”

“Mom, I can’t listen to this anymore, This is outrageous.” Rohan couldn’t stop laughing. “These are nothing but rumors spread out by the newspapers so that they can increase their sales. Moreover, I am getting late now. Bye.”

“Be careful son.” Savita mumbled to herself. She could feel that something wrong was going to happen.

Rohan was running hard to catch his train. He finally couldn’t keep up with the speed of the train and had to let it go. He bent down, holding his knees and gasped for breath. He looked at his watch. His next train was not before another half-an-hour. He sat down on a nearby bench and waited.

“Hello. I can see that you missed your train.” The person sitting beside him on the bench greeted Rohan. He looked at him. He seemed to be in his mid-30s.

“Yeah. Bad luck I guess.” Rohan replied. He was still catching his breath.

“Do you believe in luck Mr…?”

“Rohan, I am Rohan Sharma.”

“OK Mr. Sharma, I am Mahesh Gupte. So, do you believe in luck?”

“Not really, that was just a way of blaming luck rather than myself for losing my train.”

“By the way, I am a writer.” The stranger said.

“That’s great! Which are the books you have authored till now?”  

  “The Stoneman, Almost Dead and a few others. Almost Dead is one of my best works and you must read it.”

“I sure will. Do you have a copy?”

“I don’t have it right now, but I could give you a signed copy, if you could accompany me to a nearby store please.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t want to sound rude, but I can’t come with you right now. I have a train to catch in the next 20-25 mins.”

“That’s all right. If you don’t mind, I can drive you to your office after I give you a copy from the store.”

“But may I ask you, why would you do that?” Rohan had doubts in his mind.

“Marketing, my friend. I am not a very known author, but if you read my book and like it, you probably would spread a good word-to-mouth publicity!”

“That makes sense! Let’s go then.”

They walked towards the car. As soon as they reached it, Rohan felt a hand from behind, on his face and before he could make out that the person was holding a piece of cloth with chloroform in it, he fainted.

Rohan opened his eyes. He looked around. He was in a place, which looked like an underground basement. He was lying on the ground, his hands and legs tied. The person who had brought him there was standing right in front of him.

“Good Afternoon Mr. Rohan. Hope you remember me.”

“Who are you?”

“You don’t read newspapers much. Do you? There is a serial killer on the loose and people still fall prey to such lies!”

“I don’t believe you. You can’t be the serial killer.”

“Well, the fact that you believe it or not, how does that matter to me? If you want to stay alive, give me all the money that you have and I’ll set you free.”

“You can’t be the serial killer. You can’t be.” Rohan continued to murmur.

The person charged towards Rohan and held his face in a threatening way.

“Shut up, or I’ll kill you right away. I said, give me all the money that you have, in your bank accounts, and whatever you have with you. You don’t want to mess with me.”

In a flash, Rohan slit his throat with a blade he had in his hands – the same blade with which he had freed his hands from the knot. The person lay there, holding his throat, blood gushing out from it. Rohan freed his legs as well and then came near the person.

“I told you, you can’t be the serial killer. It’s me Mr. Gupte!” Rohan said calmly.

The next day, at the breakfast table, as they were watching the TV, Rohan’s mother saw the news and almost shouted on top of her voice, “Rohan, watch the news. A dead body was found a few kms away from the station that you board your train from. They say that the serial killer did it. The one who introduces himself as a writer?”

“Come on Mom! Those are rumors. You don’t need to believe them. TRUST ME.” He winked at his mother.

Need or Happiness?

Saikat reached home. Rohan, his son, came running to him. 

“Papa, look at this drawing! Tell me, how is it?” Saikat was the biggest critic of his five-year old son’s drawings.

He took his son in his arms and meanwhile looked at his drawing. He always was awe-struck at how well can a five-year old draw, whenever he saw his son’s creations.

“This is beautiful beta!” he exclaimed, seeming highly impressed. “This is perhaps one of your best drawings in the recent times!” He planted a kiss on his son’s cheek.

Rohan was really happy. He loved it whenever his father liked his drawings. 

“But papa, I want new sketch-pens. These are not working anymore.” Rohan informed his father showing his sketch-pens. Saikat paused. He checked his pocket as his son was busy analysing his sketch-pens. He had Rs. 30 in his pocket. There were still 5 more days for his salary to be credited. His financial condition wasn’t very good.  

“Rohan, which colour sketch-pens do you need?”

“Papa, I need red, blue, orange, black and yellow.”

“Let’s do one thing. We’ll buy red and blue for now, and we’ll buy the rest after some days. Is that OK?” Saikat tried to negotiate.

“OK Papa.” Rohan seemed a little disappointed, but Saikat had no other option. They went to the stationary shop. 

“Hi, we need two sketch-pens please – one red and one blue.” Saikat asked the shop-keeper.

“Just a minute sir.” The shopkeeper replied.

Just then, a car arrived. Another father-son duo came out of the car. They approached the shop. They looked rich. They came to the shop and asked for a whole packet of sketch-pens. The shopkeeper gave one to them. “How much?” the father asked. “Twenty-five rupees.”

The person handed him the money and they went off with the packet. His son was happily dancing away towards the car.

Seeing the packet, in the other boy’s hands, Rohan said, “Papa...” and he looked at his father. Saikat saw a strange glow in his eyes. Rohan’s look seemed innocent, and the longing for the packet of sketch-pens was very much there. He did not say anything, but his eyes said it all. He was excited to see a packet of pens, and desperate to own one.

“Sir, here you are – one red and a blue sketch-pen. Anything else?” said the shop-keeper.

“Yes, please keep these back. We’ll take the packet.” Saikat said to the shopkeeper and smiled at his son. He felt a strange satisfaction within him.

  

Mani

Rajan was coming back to his hometown after 5 years. Now that he had shifted his base to Mumbai, and none of his relatives were staying in Bhubaneswar, he had no business coming down to the place. After his parents had died, he had sold his property before shifting completely to Mumbai. He had been to several holiday destinations since then, but this time, there was something inside him which was urging him to go back to Bhubaneswar and feel the warmth of the soil there. He instantly remembered the days when he used to go to Puri, to visit the Lord Jagannath’s Temple and of course, the beach was always on the cards. The ecstatic feeling he used to have when they played cricket matches on Sundays in the scorching heat, defying every warning from their parents. These memories flooded his mind and he planned his trip... alone.

He reached Bhubaneswar and got freshened up in a Hotel. Soon, he set out to see the place where he once used to live, the place where he spent his childhood, the place where he was born. The city seemed to have changed a lot in the last 5 years. The small colonies were now replaced by big apartments; there were town buses in service now. He could hardly see any person travelling on a cycle. The city had developed a lot, he thought.

His home was situated around 4-5 kms from his hotel. He stood by the side of the road and looked for an auto. Most of them, which run on a sharing basis were filled up, so he did not want to travel in them. After a 10 minutes wait, he could finally find an auto which had no passenger in it. He waved at it and the auto stopped in front of him.

“Will you go to Saheednagar?” Rajan asked.

“Reserve or on a sharing basis?” asked the auto-driver.

“Reserve”. Rajan replied.

“100 rupees sir.” demanded the auto-driver. Rajan was expecting around 50-60 bucks. He thought of bargaining with him.

“That’s too much! I’ll give you 50 bucks and that’s my last offer.” He said.

The auto-driver went off without bothering to reply to the offer. Rajan was astounded by the rude behaviour of the auto-guy. He looked around and thought of taking a bus, but then he would have had to ask for bus routes and moreover, look for a bus stop. He looked back and found an empty cycle rickshaw, with the rickshaw driver sitting under the tree. He was reminded of the old days, when he used to go to the school with a few other kids in a cycle rickshaw. The idea of travelling again brought out the kid in him and he found himself fascinated by it. He went to the rickshaw, and noticed that the rickshaw-puller was an old guy, seemed like 50-55 years old.

“Will you take me to Saheednagar?” He asked the rickshaw-puller.

“Yes sir.” The old guy replied.

“How much?”

“Sir, whatever you offer.”

“I’ll give you 40 rupees.” Rajan made his offer. Something inside him pinched him for making that offer, which was 10-20 bucks less than the one he made to the auto-rickshaw driver. It was probably his moral conscience. He was glad that he had one.

“OK” replied the guy politely.

Rajan sat on the cycle rickshaw and his journey started. He struck up a conversation with the rickshaw-puller.

“You must be facing tough competition from the auto-rickshaws?” he asked.

“Sir, There is no competition at all. The auto-rickshaws are faster, and if you are going on a sharing basis, it’s cheaper as well. We stand no chance against them.” He replied humbly.

“Then why don’t you guys run an auto-rickshaw?” He asked, but then he knew it was a stupid question! Obviously the guy did not have enough money to buy one!

“Sir, from where will we get the money to buy one? Moreover, even if we want to drive somebody else’s auto-rickshaw, who would want an old man to drive his vehicle! There is a big risk involved in it for the owner.”

“How do you manage then? Do you get enough customers to make a living out of it?” Rajan asked curiously.

“No sir. It is only kind men like you or sometimes, though rarely, the curious ones, who just need a ride for fun are our customers. We barely manage our living, but are happy with whatever we have or rather, whatever we don’t have.” he said and laughed. I too tried to join in with his laughter.

He continued. “But sir, our city is developing so much. New buildings are coming up, new shopping malls, hotels have found a place in the city, people party and have lots of money to spend. But the Government doesn’t realise even though the city is developing, the rich is getting richer and the poor is getting poorer. Where will we go and what will we do to earn a living?”

Soon, Rajan found that he was about to reach his destination and there is an uphill road which was about 10-15 mins walk to his home. He did not want to give the poor old guy a hard time, pulling up his weight. He asked him to stop and got down from it. He felt sorry for the poor old guy. He took out his wallet, fished out a 500-rupee note and handed it over to the person.

The old guy looked at Rajan and said, “Sir, Please give me 40 rupees change.”

“That’s fine. No need of returning me the change. I insist, please keep it.” Rajan replied.

“Sir, I cannot take it. I have worked hard all my life and have never accepted anything which is not fair. That’s how I’ve lived my life sir. I promised you to bring you here in exchange of 40 rupees and will do so. I know you would have felt sorry for me listening to my story, but I had no intentions of charging you money for telling it to you!” He said, with a smiling face.

Rajan was startled by the honesty of the old rickshaw-puller, at the same time he was crossed with himself for making such a small offer for the rickshaw ride. But then he had no choice. The guy simply refused to take any extra money! Finally, he gave him 40 bucks and he accepted it with grace. Rajan was impressed with the way the person had conducted himself irrespective of the fact that he was so poor.

The rickshaw-puller said, “Thank you sir.” and started turning away with the rickshaw.

Rajan called him, “Hey wait! What’s your name?”

“Sir, my name is Mani. Hope you’ll remember me!” And with a smile on his face, he started moving in the opposite direction.

“Of course Mani!” replied Rajan.

The Last Kiss

There was a brief silence.

“Is there no hope at all now? Is that all we can do?” Rajiv asked in a quivering voice.

“They are not ready to listen to me at all. I am really sorry, but I can’t go against my parents’ wishes.” Nisha replied. She was about to break down as well.

“What about my wishes, my love for you? Do they not matter to you anymore?”

There was no reply from the other side. Rajiv could hear her sob. He was raged, he was sad. He was going through an emotional turmoil.

“Look, it’s as difficult for me as it is for you to forget our relationship, and we had a beautiful one. But I’m helpless in this situation. It’s absolutely my fault that I don’t have the guts to go against my parents. Please try and understand this.”

Rajiv was trying hard to keep his emotions in check.

“Are you really sure about this?” he asked.

“Yes. I’m sorry, really sorry.” she continued to sob.

“OK. Then this would be the last time we are talking I guess.” The rage within him had vanished and his heart felt very heavy. He disconnected the call and broke down. It was a difficult time for him. He had so much love for Nisha, but fate had different plans for them. He decided never to call her again.

It was 11.30 pm. Rajiv had fallen asleep. He got up, his head felt heavy. He went into the bathroom and looked into the mirror. He looked terrible. He washed up his face and came back to his room. He felt like talking to Nisha again. But his brain was adamant on not allowing his heart to rule. He switched on the TV and sat down. He felt lonely. All the beautiful memories of him and Nisha came to his mind. Their immense love for each other was so evident, that their friends had termed them as ‘Inseparables’. He loved the way Nisha cared for him, life was unimaginable for him without her. The way she used to say, “I would love you forever and ever...” with her eyes closed and the red-nosed face, was unforgettable for him. He was deep-immersed in his thoughts.

Suddenly the door-bell rang. He got up lazily, wondering who it could be at his door step at the middle of the night. As soon as he opened the door, he was shocked. He couldn’t believe his eyes. It was Nisha!

“What are you doing here at this hour?” he asked her, sounding alarmed.

“I have come here to tell you sorry again. You did not let me complete on the phone.” She replied with a sad-looking face.

He allowed her inside and they sat down.

“Look, I know you love me a lot. I love you too. I am not lying about this and you know that. But I love my parents as well. They don’t like you, and I cannot go against them. So you’ll have to let me go.”

“But...” Rajiv was about to say something when Nisha sealed his lips with hers. It was like their first kiss – passionate, yet innocent; tempting, yet divine. All the rage, anger and sadness within Rajiv had melted down. He looked into her eyes. They looked so beautiful.

“That was our last kiss. I will love you forever and ever. You’ll get a better girl than me. Marry someone nice and be happy, please... for my sake...” A tear rolled down her eyes as she spoke.

Rajiv was unable to reply to her, he still couldn’t believe his senses.

“I love you.” That was all he could say.

“Rajiv, promise me that you’ll be happy for the rest of your life and settle down with a nice girl.”

“I can’t.”

“Promise me, you’ll at least try.”

“Okay. I will.” Rajiv said, after a long pause, with a heavy heart.

“It’s time for me to go now. I must leave.” Nisha said with a face filled with content, but sad.

Just then, Rajiv got a call on his phone. It was Ruchi, Nisha’s friend.

“Hello!” Rajiv answered the call.

“Hello! Rajiv! Where were you? I have been trying to reach you since long!” Ruchi was crying.

“Sorry, that could be a problem with the network, what happened Ruchi? Why are you crying?”

“Rajiv, Nisha is dead! She slit her wrists two hours ago and has committed suicide.”

“What? What nonsense are you talking about? She was right he...” he turned around and nobody was there. There was no one else in the room except Rajiv and an eerie silence around him.

“Hello... Hello... Rajiv, are you there?” Ruchi kept on asking him. The phone slipped out of Rajiv’s hand and fell on the floor.

Darkness filled his eyes and he lost consciousness.

“You’ll have to let me go... That was our last kiss. I’ll love you forever and ever...”

  

  

The Choice

Rajiv was hell-bent on buying a new Mercedes. He could surely afford it! After all, he had the bank-balance, which could make many people envious. He was single and successful and enjoyed a good reputation in the society. Owning a Mercedes would just be the icing on the cake.


He had gone to the showroom and selected the colour of his car as well. Black it was! The colour that rich men preferred. Now he wanted to get rid of his old Santro as soon as his car arrives. After he booked his new car, he headed back to home. It was raining heavily. On the way, he stopped his car at a small tea stall. He went into the stall and took shelter in the shed.

“One tea please.” He asked the vendor.

“Five minutes saab, I am preparing it right now.”

“OK. No problem.” Rajiv said, flashing a smile. Just then, he saw a small boy walking across the road and came to the stall. He was wet and dirty. Rajiv confined himself to the corner of the shed so as to avoid any physical contact with the boy.

“Bhola, what took you so long?” The tea vendor was furious on the kid.

“The owner of the dhaba left me late and on the way back, I slipped and fell on the ground.” Replied the boy in a frightened tone. He looked to be around 7-8 years old.

“I won’t pay you today’s salary. And if you don’t come to my stall on time from tomorrow, I will not pay you another penny for the next 2-3 days.” The vendor said harshly.

Rajiv felt bad for the boy. He also felt anger within him for the vendor for such rude behaviour towards the boy. He didn’t express his anger spontaneously though.

“Saab, here is your tea.” The vendor handed him the cup of tea.

“Thanks. Who is this kid?” Rajiv enquired.

“Saab, don’t worry about him. He is a lazy kid, doesn’t work at all. I pay him a daily salary of Rs. 20 and all he has to do is offer some help to me in the morning and in the evening in my tea-stall. But he comes late all the time. I told him so many times...”

“Does he have a name?” Rajiv interrupted him by asking in an angry tone.

“Saab, why are you getting angry? His name is Bhola. We have a simple equation of an employer and an employee. I am not forcing him to work at my stall. It’s his choice if he wants to work or not.”

“But isn’t it unfair to not pay him his daily salary, just because he’s a little late?”

“He was late by 15 minutes. Don’t argue with me anymore. Drink your tea and go.” Rajiv felt the politeness of the vendor vanish instantly. He drank his tea, paid the money and left the place. Soon after he reached home, he tried to relax by not thinking about the incident. But it was not to be. He was disturbed at the plight of the boy. Endless thoughts came into his mind. He didn’t realise when he fell asleep.  

It was a beautiful Sunday morning. Rajiv woke up and looked at the watch. It was 8.15 am. He got ready and went to the same tea stall. This time, he parked his car a little further away and waited inside it. At around 10.30 am, Bhola left the stall and started walking along the road. Rajiv followed him and after he was sure that he was far away from the stall, he stopped the car in front of Bhola. He opened the door of the car and asked him with a smile on his face, “Bhola, want a lift?”

Probably not used to such kind gestures, Bhola was astonished. But soon, he became conscious and without giving any reply, started walking. Rajiv was not able to comprehend this action of the kid, but persisted. He followed the kid and finally they reached a nearby Dhaba.

Rajiv saw Bhola going into the dhaba and finally, he noticed him taking orders from the customers. He came out of the car and went into the hotel. Seeing a new customer, the owner of the dhaba called out, “Bhola, take the order from this saab.”

Bhola came out quietly. “Saab, What do you want to eat?” he asked Rajiv.

“I don’t want to eat anything. I want to talk to you.”

“Sorry saab, but I cannot allow this. It’s his time to work.” Screamed the dhaba owner.

Rajiv took out his wallet and flashed a 1000-rupee note at the owner. “Will it be possible now?”

“Arre Saab, you can take him for a ride now.” He said to Rajiv and smiled shamelessly.

Rajiv asked Bhola to sit beside him. “Why didn’t you come with me? I could have dropped you.”

“Last time I took a lift from a person, I felt so much pain in my stomach. I didn’t want to feel that pain again.”

“Pain? What pain?” asked Rajiv.

“Nothing.” Bhola replied.

“It’s OK, I am not going to hurt you. You can consider me as a friend.”

Bhola showed his stomach and Rajiv was shocked to see a big cut on it. It was more like a stitch on his abdomen. He knew what this could mean, but he wanted to confirm it.

“Where do you stay? And where are your parents?”

“I sleep here in the dhaba itself and I don’t know where my parents are.”

“OK. You carry on then, and take this.” He took out a chocolate and gave it to him. Seeing such a big chocolate, he seemed very happy and flashed a million-dollar smile to him. Rajiv now had a small friend.

Before leaving the dhaba, he talked to the owner and gathered information about Bhola. He never had parents since these people know him. He worked in the afternoon and in the night in the dhaba and slept there itself. The owner paid him a daily wage of Rs. 80 in return. In the early mornings and in the evenings, he worked at the nearby tea stall. Two years back, he was offered a lift by a van and he accepted it as he wanted to reach the tea stall early, and didn’t come back, until two days later, he was found unconscious at the same place. The people then came to know that he was robbed off of his kidney. Now, he’s unable to run or play or dance unlike the other kids his age. 

Rajiv quietly walked to his car. He couldn’t believe the cruelty that this world held and how severely was the innocence of the kid crushed. He quietly drove back home.

Bhola finished his chores in the dhaba and was getting ready to sleep. He went near the bushes to attend nature’s call when he saw Rajiv’s car in a distance. He walked towards it. As soon as he reached near it, Rajiv opened the door and said with a smile on his face, “Want a lift?” Bhola smiled and sat inside the car. 

“Where are we going?” he asked.

“We’ll have an ice-cream and then we’ll go to our house.”

“Our house!” Bhola exclaimed.

“Yes, you no longer belong here. You will stay with me and you’ll study further.”

“Please stop!” Bhola screamed suddenly.

Rajiv stopped the car right there. Bhola went out of the car. “Doesn’t he want to come with me? Is he happy in his own life?” These thoughts flashed through his mind. And then he saw Bhola come back to his car with a little puppy in his hand. “Can we take him also please?”

“Where did you find it?” Rajiv asked, relieved that he was not making a mistake.

“He’s my friend. I feed him daily on the way to the tea-stall. So I get late every day.” Bhola replied.

“Of course you can bring him in.” Rajiv said with a smile. And they drove away.

The Delivery Boy

Drowsiness was setting in. I was gradually transcending into ‘The Dreamworld’. And then something startled me and I woke up. Soon I realized, it was a knock on my front door of my 2 BHK flat that had forced me to come back into the real world. I waited for another 10-20 secs for my flatmate to open the door. No one showed up. Finally, I got up cursing him in my mind, and opened the door. It was the delivery boy from the nearby grocery shop at the door. He was standing there with a 20 litre can of drinking water, which probably my flatmate would have ordered over the phone.

The boy had a faint, half-grown moustache, was average-statured and seemed like in his early adolescence. I opened the door wide enough to allow him to come in and place the can in its right place.  He then sat down for sometime in the drawing room. I felt irritated as I was sleepy and was waiting to close the door behind him.

“Bhaiyya, can I have a glass of water? I am tired.” asked the boy.  I was getting restless now and every second I had to keep my eyes open, standing there waiting for the boy to go, irked me even more.

“One minute.” I replied and fetched a glass of water for him. The boy drank water and I expected him to go now. But that was not the case! He was still sitting there and didn’t budge from his place. I was running out of patience and finally the rude person within me blurted out, “I’ll have to close the door now.”

“Oh! Is it?”

“Yes.”

“Okay!” He exclaimed and started moving out with the empty can. I heaved a sigh of relief and as soon as he moved out of the door, I closed the door behind him and walked to my room as soon as possible and made myself cosy in my bed.

But I hardly got sleep after that. The people-pleaser within me then got into the act. I started asking myself, “Was I being the rightful person here by showing such behaviour towards an innocent kid who was just plain tired and wanted some rest? After all, it was afternoon and carrying the big can of water all the way to the third floor could tire anyone out!”

Getting irked, just because I am feeling sleepy shouldn’t have been the case. There could be so many reasons that the boy is working at this age, when he should ideally be studying. And if God wouldn’t have been kind to me, I would have been in his place delivering big cans of water in hot sunny afternoons to various homes. I cursed myself and felt really bad for my behaviour towards the boy. I promised myself that I would never repeat such a thing and would behave in a better way atleast.

I realized that the tussle between the people-pleaser and the rude protagonist within me will always continue and my mind will always be tempted to support the latter. However, it’ll always depend on me to choose the former as the winner.

The next day, I went to the same shop to buy some eateries and noticed the same boy standing behind the counter. “How are you maalik?” asked the boy.

“I am fine, how are you going about your business?” I replied.

 “Everything is going fine maalik.”

Just then, the owner of the shop arrived and ordered the boy to deliver some items to a customer in the nearby apartment. I paid the money to the owner and glanced at the boy.

He smiled at me innocently.

I smiled back at him in a friendly manner.