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.

  

The Fallen Hero

It was a Sunday evening. I just reached my flat in Pune after a trip to my friend’s house. As I entered, I saw my room-mates watching something on TV. Instantly, I asked “What’s the score?” And channels were switched to SET MAX. The IPL season was on, and I had been following it for quite some time. After all, everyone goes gaga over it.

It was a match between Pune Warriors and Rajasthan Royals. As it seemed, Pune was badly down and was almost on the verge of losing (as was the case in their last 6-7 matches). I supported Pune, not because I had developed affection towards the city I am staying in (although I do), but it had my favourite cricketer – Sourav Ganguly leading the team. 

I remember the time – 1996 to be precise, when the ‘Prince of Kolkata’ debuted in the Indian Cricket Team at the Lord’s Cricket Stadium in England. I was relatively younger back then and I hadn’t noticed him much. But when I really started following Cricket, which most of us in India do, Boy Oh Boy! Was I mesmerized by this player! Of course, Sachin was the greatest batsman in the world. But there was something in him that demanded a fan-following. I loved the way he used to step out of his crease, the moment he sees a spin bowler at the other end of the 22-yards, or the way he used to pierce the offside field, packed with 6-odd fielders with an elegant drive. He was a player you’d love to watch. His opening partnerships with Sachin, was something I hardly missed. 

When he became the captain of the Indian Cricket Team, the whole cricket fraternity was deeply immersed in the after-effects of the Match-fixing scandals. Most of the cricketers, including some of the Indians as well were down and out. It was then, that Sourav led from the front and he infused young blood to the team, along with a few experienced personnel within the team. Such was the belief that they had, that they started winning overseas games as well and improving India’s overseas records under his captaincy to such an extent was by far one of his greatest achievements.

I remember reading an article wherein it was mentioned that Sourav had intentionally come late for the toss and he made Steve Waugh, the then-captain of the Australian Cricket team, wait. Steve Waugh was furious about it, but he had just got a piece of his own cake. I knew it then, that the Indian Cricket Team that we would have now, is carrying an ATTITUDE. 

After all those achievements though, the famous spat with Greg Chappel happened and everything started falling apart for Sourav. He was removed from the captaincy and was asked to warm the benches. He made a comeback with a gritty century against Zimbabwe in a test match, but we all knew he had lost the magical touch he once possessed in his batting. I have seen many people criticizing him for various reasons. But they don’t realize that India had ‘almost’ won the Cricket World Cup 2003, and by then he had played a major part in the resurgence of the team.

I don’t really know why Sourav ends up with Aussie coaches, read John Buchanan as the coach of the Kolkata Knight Riders team in the IPL. Moreover, he ends up having a bad term with them, and frantically loses out on his place. The worst was still about to come, when none of the IPL teams bid for him in the IPL auctions. It was heart-breaking for his fans and that was evident when they burnt down effigies of SRK in Kolkata. But the team owners vied for better cricketers, who suited the 20-20 format better than Sourav, and that was obvious. I always thought, why does he still want to play? Why can’t he just take up a job as a commentator and retire with dignity? Frankly, I don’t know. Probably, he still has that passion to play cricket and he wants to contribute in every possible way. Probably, he doesn’t want to be called as an ex-cricketer with good English-speaking skills, who rather than playing cricket joined a TV channel as a Cricket Commentator. Probably, he did not want to sit in an Air-conditioned room and watch others playing his favourite game on the ground. Probably, he wanted to be in the middle of the action that’s happening at the centre-stage. Probably, he’s still trying to prove a point to the people who criticize him as a non-performer in the shortest version of cricket. 

Sourav, you’ve had enough of action and you’ve made your country proud, with all those achievements you’ve made. You have got nothing more to prove. You still have a great fan-following and everyone knows your contribution towards Indian cricket. It’s time now that you hang up your boots and play more of a mentor-kinda role for any team. Youngsters can learn a lot from you. The relentless passion that you have towards the game is unmatchable.

I had watched a video where he was asked by the journalists, about his reaction to his remaining unsold in the IPL auction, his eyes looked down and he seemed lost in his thoughts – 'The Fallen Hero’ paused. Probably he had no answers to the question.