The Phone Number #1

Fiction

Exploring the tinsel town of Allahabad was an experience I wouldn’t dare to forget. I had been posted here only a few days ago and was working as a Graduate engineer trainee in one of the reputed construction firms. I had been sent here to add the numerical strength to the depleting supervising bench of the firm over there, which I was initially hesitant but later convinced myself when a convenient incentive was offered.

But I was all stuck and confused, as all the names of the shop were in Hindi and being a South Indian, it was bit of challenge to comprehend. But I did find the shop which I was looking for, the mobile recharge shop. I had to buy a new SIM as I couldn’t tolerate the roaming which was already killing my meagre salary. The shopkeeper assured me of activation within 24 hours, which in actual took another 24 to be put it in use.

And the first message as soon as the number got activated wasn’t even from the telecom provider but it was from some hot shot bank. I opened in curiosity and found lakhs of rupees being transferred into some account number which was also displayed along with the message. Within a span of one hour, I had ended up receiving 20 messages, each carrying a message from the same bank and the same amount. I didn’t think it was some advertising propaganda because the balance kept increasing and stood at an astonishing 1 crore rupees as displayed in the last message. I was in total disarray because I couldn’t comprehend such a huge transaction, all done in parts and all done on a single day.

Three days later

Sipping my tea while I watched the fog engulf the road ahead; the cold had started to take its toll but mind remained restless to know why these messages where delivered to me and why haven’t they stopped. As I unchecked the last message, the phone starts beeping again but all the more continuous this time, so I decided to answer to this unknown number, totally unaware of the mess I was getting into.


Writer’s Note: This is first of the three part series, titled “The Phone Number”.

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The Shooting Star

Grazing the stars in the midnight sky,
I long for the shooting star to pass by
To make truce with my dreamed destiny
Of having a life short of misery.

A life which belongs not alone to me
But to all who remain cherished
In the world by calling it ‘ours’,
And caring for every form living along.

A community so large and so connected
Tweaks a notion of the old, true;
Behind every form, there remains a soul
that belongs to the same family as the other.

I still long for that shooting star
To blemish the differences created
Between the body and the soul,
And makes us awaken to the light of equality.

I am ready to slog for this light
By trying to become a part of them
Who make this meteor come alive,
giving us the hope for that shooting star to pass by.

The task up ahead is nothing short of a miracle
which requires hands one too many,
but we know miracles do happen
and this time its upon us to decide when.

Pic Source: Google/forwallpaper.com

The Little Angel

Fiction

Rays of light passing through the peep holes among the window on my right which I try shrugging off by putting the blanket overhead. This didn’t help, as I couldn’t stop it from awakening my depressed mind, even the quarter whisky I had in the night hadn’t helped either.

Scratching my head, I made myself to rise from the bed and tried to clear the mess in order to get a way out. Pieces of window glass which had scattered all on the floor made me realize how my life wasn’t that different than those pieces of glass, all broken. I didn’t bother to clear it even today, same way as I didn’t want to correct my life either.

Searching for the earphones and for some music to keep the obsessive thoughts in check and the person I love less annoyed. But even the music didn’t work, as it only ignited more fire than the usual pain. I adjusted myself in front of my laptop and tried to complete the story I had wanted to write from a while now. It was strange as no new thoughts flowed into me like before, and only thing which came out was drunken rambling which I remembered nothing once I was awake.

I had to finish this story; it was my last hope to regain the life I once had, the one of being the author of an acclaimed novel. I had a wonderful life with my book doing really well while the love of my life was with me hand in hand, through the struggle and now the fame. But that was a year ago, now I was searching for that little hope to get me at least to struggle.

The phone started to beep which I knew was the publishing house calling for knowing my progress, I didn’t care to lift as I had nothing new to say. I kept typing and deleting while nothing seemed to fit the plot. Yes I did have a plot, a wonderful love story which was very different from the one before, a thriller. But all that romance had come to a still when she walked away from my life, leaving me alone in the world we built.

It’s been almost a week since I even ventured out; I seem to hate the sunlight itself and my love for darkness had only increased. The entire house had filled up with smoke while packets of cigarettes and alcohol had been littered all around the place. There was a door bell, which was really strange because I felt I had scared all the people away and there was no one who would have dared to come to my place.

As I reluctantly opened the door, I found a little girl in her pink fairy costume with a wand in her hand smiling at me. The first thought which stuck me was, am in heaven, have I passed away, which was possible with respect to the smoking and drinking for the last one year. But my thoughts were stopped in midway, when she spoke, “Uncle, did my parents give you the house key?” I wondered, yes I did hear the bell ring in the morning, but I was too lazy to open back then. I replied “No they didn’t”, and her face became all sad and she started mumbling “they forgot about me, they always do…they didn’t even make it to my fancy dress competition which they promised they would.”

I just couldn’t see her cry, so I offered her to take her to a park nearby as I couldn’t bring her in; the place was a total mess. The sun appeared to have missed me and was beating down with all the force to get my notice but the clouds were kind enough to shadow over the sun, and rest the calmness upon us. I made a call to her parents who had informed that they were heading back home and were stuck in a big traffic jam; Delhi traffic is totally predictable, once it jams then we are sure that we are stuck there for a while now.

I told her the same and offered her my favourite chocolate “Dairy milk silk” which she happily accepted and went back to play in the park while I went and sat on one of the benches in the corner. I was watching the children play, and especially their laughter which was so pure and so contagious. There was a natural smile which appeared on my face, making me enjoy the pleasant wind which added more beauty to the scenes of laughter all around.

The sun was trying to peep in from the gaps provided by the clouds which had covered him; I was unfazed this time and allowed it to fall upon me, as I didn’t see it as a burden but more as a pleasurable feeling. I got up to take a small walk across the park, exploring the grass which was still wet from the last evening shower. A pack of wind whistled past the tree which allowed the held up rain water to fall below where I had been standing for a while. I thought to myself that the universe had started to conspire for me again, or maybe I was really desperate for the world to embrace me again and give me back my beloved life. I didn’t know which was true, but thing which I was sure, was that I had to move on which required an effort, a very big one, from my side.

The phone starts beeping again, this time it’s was my neighbour, calling to inform that they have reached. I took her back to the apartments where her parents were waiting all anxiously. Before she left, she whispered “Uncle, will you play with me tomorrow?” for which I had a prompt reply “Yes, my little angel.”

She mumbled again “But…?”

“What happened?” I asked her.

“Please take a bath tomorrow uncle, you smell bad” and then she left.

I went back to my place, and looked around the house and believe me, it did stink so did I. Big beard and long locks of hair, highly unlike me. I headed out again, this time to the barber shop!

“Don’t lose hope; You will never know what tomorrow will bring.” – Anonymous.

Soulmate

The old man with his walking stick
Descended down the hill,
With a handful of flowers
And a greeting in his hand.

As he took a stroll across the valley,
He was reminded of the time he had left behind,
In midst of this market’s hurry back then
He had met her for the very first time.

With a small smile on his face,
He moved ahead to find the altar
Where he along with her, made their vows
To be together forever and ever.

The memory had made his eyes turn moist
As he holds on to the wedding ring on his hand,
He loved her like no other
And now he was all lost like no other.

Walking past the gates of the cemetery
Till he reached the stone in the green corner,
Placing the flowers and the greeting,
He wished “Happy Anniversary, sweetheart”.

The Conspiracy

Fiction

Eyes transfixed over the motionless fan above my head, as I cushion myself with the pillows on the bed. Roof was painted all white with no speckle of dust, may be it was recently refurnished, I thought to myself.

I was sweating beyond necessary, it was a normal day in my job and I was expected to remain calm. But there was something unusual, I felt that I have been set up and the police are on their way to pocket me. My accomplice was nowhere to be found, while the only thing saving me was the latched door. I knew outside that door, stood my doom.

It had to happen someday or the other as my profession has to use double-crossing blatantly. And the other thing, the most important one, was I had to maintain my record, 21-0; 21 successful robberies in 3 years without getting caught was something I didn’t want to break. Even today was a normal day, only thing which added was me pleading to my wife that this was my last. I knew I lied to her, as I had done time and time again. Being in this closed room, I think I should have listened to her. Though I did have a huge list of people who I should have listened, but I had always thought otherwise.

The police siren had started ringing and the intensity only grew with every second in the clock which kept staring at me. Staircase started to fill in with commotion, long cries being made out of shock, while the persons in uniform made their way to the fifth floor of the apartment where I had stood grounded.

Rolling over the bullets into my semi-automatic pistol, trying to pull the trigger but my inner conscience told me to wait for that right moment. I fixed my aim onto the door, waiting for it to be thrown open while I waited not to die alone.

All the previous robberies involved no blood but this was not usual, it was an accident from the very beginning. I never knew that I would walk into a pool of blood and name the murder around my name. The clues I had left, point the finger straight at me.

The main door started creaking slowly, and the sound of footsteps became audible. The fanatic in me had taken complete control over my senses, and it only made me sweat more profusely. Only the hand with the gun remained still, but the mind which controlled the trigger was really anxious. Eyes started to blur, giving indications that I might pass out real soon, but I knew I had to survive as I couldn’t come to terms to such an end.

I was here to create a legacy, by being that perfect thief, by being the Robin Hood for my people who needed miracles in order to survive.  But I knew that my way was wrong, and eventually I had succumbed to the greed of the profession, which I repent every single day. I wanted to change this; that was the very reason I had chosen this robbery at the house of the biggest smuggler in the city. But my stars had thought otherwise, the previous wrong doings had to catch up, someday or the other. The very trust, which I had broken many times, was now shattered by my own accomplice who I had trusted my life upon. Here I stand in a room with the dead body of a renowned smuggler, latched from outside by a friend who I felt betrayed from.

Latch was silently removed but I still could hear it, so I pulled the trigger back, to launch what might be my last act in this particular life. As the door was slammed open, I waited no second, and fired the bullet which stuck directly on to the accomplice’s forehead. As the motionless body transcended, I realized he was only there to help me rather than getting me caught. Even before I could shed a tear, there was another gun shot and this time I wasn’t that lucky. It pierced into my temple, making me motionless like the other bodies in the room, and I fell forward onto the feet of the police officer whose muzzle was still throwing smoke, fresh after its first shot.

Police radio transceiver shrieked voices between the two officers, each congratulating the other over the success of their mission. The officer, who had fulfilled the task on the ground, confirmed that three menaces were all down, and they didn’t have to worry about the smuggler anymore. Their propaganda had worked, they just needed to show it as a gang war which it had projected out to be, but the only thing that differed was that the setup in totality had been planted by the police themselves. The conspiracy to kill the biggest smuggler in the town needed a blanket to cover up and what better than a gang war. The others were collateral damage, where one points the finger towards the other, making the case a closed one and ready to be put into the archives. They knew their plan had worked, but their conscience was still mad at them. And they knew they had no plan to counter that…

The End.

Rainfall

Bleeding the clouds to draw their first blood,

Causing the loud tremors to dominate,

One flexing their muscle over the other

Causing the darkness to overtake.

In heart of struggle for the identity

Opens a door to the eternity,

For providing the drop to the needy

Till the heavens decide to open by.

With the awakening of light in the sky,

Darkness with its tremors subside

While the clouds march back to prosperity

They leave behind the people below gratified.


Being the first post for this year, I tried dwelling for an emotion to write about. I tried to walk my way through nature, but I just couldn’t. I couldn’t because the rain didn’t allow me to, so I thought why not observe the dear rain itself. The beauty of rain is that it’s too selfless when it gives what is required, and this part of rain is what I have tried to highlight.

Happy 2015 🙂