Hunger

ON a night like this, he would not have been out. But tonight, it was different.
This night had arrived with dark clouds and smell of jasmine. Not fresh jasmine, but the stale, wild fragrance of potpourri. And he knew. Another episode of the saga of hunger would unfold tonight. He, the old caretaker of the dilapidated mansion located far south of the town, would remain the lone witness to it.
He proceeded to the gate of the mansion. Trudging on the once-gravelled, weed-ridden path. His legs were heavy. Rheumatism. Old age. How old? He could not guess. He could never remember when he was young. The night was violent. Lightning flashed often. Ripping the black breast of the sky with dazzling, purplish, zigzag lines. Clouds thundered, the wind howled. The rain hammered the shards of the windowpanes.
The smell of jasmine grew stronger. A blaze of lightning illumined a statue. In spite of his age, his eyes glistened. He observed the statue in the garden. A woman with a pitcher. Sculpted of white marble, pale as death. Yes, water was flowing from the pitcher. Like witches’ oils.
Burning green and blue and white.
It was time. His weary feet reached the rust-eaten-iron gate. He opened it with a screech like the cry of a bird of prey. A young man, wet with rain, holding an electric-torch, was waiting.
“Who are you?” asked the man, curiously.
“The caretaker, babu.”
“I want to enter the house.”
“Babu, go back. It’s dangerous.”
“I know. I want to explore.”
“As you wish.”
The man entered. His torch went out. He walked briskly to the door. It creaked as he opened it. He went in. The old man watched. Through the holes of the motheaten, dusty, damask tapestry. With a wry smile on his wrinkled lips.
A candle was lit inside. The light flickered. His eyes turned to the statue. A vague, graceful form, draped in white, descended. She kept the pitcher on the moist earth. He went inside the mansion. Slowly, silently but surely. The scent of jasmine lingered in the damp wind. The thunder rumbled. Its roar seemed to be strangled. The candle’s flame flickered. Not with a bang but a whimper. She came out. Walked into the garden. Took the empty pitcher in her hand. Petrified into marble again. Jasmine faded away. Lightning dazzled. He saw the fiendish smile gleaming on her bloody, crimson lips.
It was over. He retreated. He would not be out again until another night came. When monsoon mingled with jasmine and witches’ oils. When the statue’s insatiable hunger took another life. As it had taken his. Long ago.
BY Sayantika Mandal, Times of India, Kolkata

Dealdly Hoax

HE could never imagine he would be chosen for this bizarre game… to watch a horror movie in an auditorium…. alone.
But here he was and as the lights began to fade and the screen about to come to life, he wondered whether he had made the right decision or not and the darkness started to produce an eerie sensation within him. He remembered the exact line in the newspaper: out of 200 entries, he had been the ‘lucky’ guy who was chosen. But now he started to ponder… would ‘unlucky’ have been a more suitable adjective?
He felt even worse when he looked around the auditorium. Wherever he looked… everything was black...and that started to make him feel uneasy. The silence of this place was even unsettling. The movie began – the nightmare had begun.
The very first scene sent the adrenaline pumping through his veins. He had not expected this: the hair on his neck stood on end.
On that giant screen he saw himself sitting all alone in that very same auditorium. It hit him like a blast… a feeling of suffocation... caused him to loosen his top button. He looked up at the screen only to see himself looking back at him. He raised a hand and his screen-self raised a hand too. He didn’t know what to do. Maybe it was some sort of a joke. He was about to get up and run for it when he stopped, white with fear.
On the screen he saw someone standing behind him… around 50 feet away from him. He started to sweat now. He didn’t want to turn around. He just sat there mesmerized, waiting for it to do something first. But it didn’t. He turned around and found no one. He was paralysed now, his senses were numb.
He turned to look back at the screen to see if the figure had gone too. But it hadn’t. It was still there, the only difference being it wasn’t on the screen… it was standing in front of him.

The shock of the moment made his entire body numb. He keeled over. The darkness was everlasting.

Headline article in the Times of India the next day:
Youth dies tragically in spine chilling game… five people arrested
Extracts from the paper…
“….five arrested for fatal hoax…their intention being to capture real fear and upload it on the internet….court calls psychiatrists to evaluate mindset…….friends and family shocked….”


By Stanley Ambrose , Times of India, Kolkata

But u Can't escape my

SHE was bored. The music was pumping. The drinks were flowing. And she was dressed to kill. She stood in front of the bar, running her eyes over the couples slow dancing. And then she saw him…
There was a glass of wine in her hands, and his too. She could still feel the fire of his foul breath on her skin, three years back.
The serrated edge of a knife held against her neck and acerbic mutterings from his wide mouth. Her hands were tied behind her legs, her body arching in pain; she could only hear and see him. Her mouth was stuffed with cotton dipped in something that smelled like petrol.
“I want to I slash this vein here … so blue and tender”, he had said, his finger tracing a line. “It’s a pity you are so young, only twenty … so naïve and inexperienced. But now you have seen what only a few have my Angel. “
She had met him at a party just like this one; and he had charmed her. But what had followed left scars on Angel’s mind and body forever. He had cut and bruised her, but when the knife was to slit her veins, she had wrenched her hands free, fought him and escaped. She still couldn’t fathom where that strength had come from.
Angel had left the city, never to see him again until today. She could now see him hypnotising the woman with him, her pupils dilating, her fingers running the length of his arms, the same strength, spinning the same web.
‘The Den’, he had called this game, he had played it with many unsuspecting women before her, and he still continued. She had to save this vulnerable woman, she sent the barman to summon her, feigning an urgent call.
Angel gripped her wrist when she came outside.
‘Who are you?’ the young woman cried.
‘You must come with me! … You are in danger,’
Angel cried, flashing her old college batch, pretending. ‘I am a detective.’ The young woman thankfully believed her.
‘No, come to my house,’ the woman said.’ It is safe; my parents are home … they are cops.’
‘Ok … ‘Angel said.
They ran into her car, and the young woman drove them to her house, on the outskirts of the city. It was dark inside.
Something stopped Angel in her tracks. ‘No …’ Angel said. ‘Drive me back to the city….’
‘It is ok … my parents are inside,’ the woman said, and pulled her in.
Angel was too intoxicated to protest. The door opened, she stepped into the living room, and then … the same stench.
‘Welcome back Angel … Did you think I wouldn’t find the only one who ever escaped me?’ the voice said, laughing.


By Trisha Bhattacharya, Times of India, Kolkata

Love Forever

RIYA adjusted the strap on her new pink top as she logged on to chat like every other evening. The top was expensive but a good buy, she decided. The messages started as soon as she logged on.
Razor: U look good in pink…
SweetRiya89: Who r u?
Razor: u always bite your nails? Riya looked down at her nails, jagged at the edges.
Razor: I'm waiting 4 an answer…
SweetRiya89 : No…
Razor : See how u've started it again…. Riya was taken aback….This certainly could not be a case of coincidence or what they say 'Intelligent Guess'! But then what? She was not in the frame of mind to think on those lines…
Today she wanted to think only about her love, Ashesh. Returning from the States where he was pursuing his masters, Riya was just catching up with a few friends online before going to receive him and decided not to be bothered by such chat sessions....
Tonight after two years she was going to meet him …..feel him! Thinking this she changed her status to the invisible mode…..
Razor : I know you r there ….
Agitatedly Riya replied: So who r u? Why do you want to chat when I'm not interested?
Razor : So u have started biting your lips already?
SweetRiya89 : Seems you know a lot about me…Anyways I'm off now…
Riya switched on her TV….the first channel she into tunes carries the Breaking News : 'CD-8891 NEW JERSEY TO KOLKATA CRASHES DUE TO SUDDEN CYCLONIC DISTURBANCES.ALL PASSENGERS ON BOARD FEARED DEAD.'
A beep sounds on her PC. The chat client opens up again….
Razor : Wherever I am I would always continue to love you…my love for you would be never cease….My love for you is 'Ashesh'.

By Sai Siddharth Panigrahi , Times of India, Kolkata

See You Again

ON a night like this, she would not have been out. But tonight, it was different.
Sandy loved driving and was driving very fast. He could clearly hear Clara's voice, "Sandy..!" It seemed Clara was calling him. Yes, Sandy was not his name. But that was what Clara called him lovingly. Clara could never pronounce 'Sandip' in proper accent and hence preferred to call him by that name.

Sandip was lost in thoughts….

It was two years ago. Sandip had gone to Australia for a post graduate course in business administration where he met Clara… Clara Jones. They could feel each other's admiration in their eyes when they met for the first time. As a year rolled on admiration grew into love, but it was just then that Sandip had to return to Kolkata. It was sad but they continued their relationship, affectionately binded by the 'net'.

Good news struck Sandip when he learnt that Clara was coming to Kolkata on an assignment at IIM Joka. Sandip was overjoyed and he had run out of ideas about how to welcome his love. He wanted to surprise her. The flight's arrival was at a late hour. Sandip left to receive Clara after dinner. The night was not at all in any welcome mood. It was a downpour with a hardblowing storm. However Sandip tried to drive as fast as he could but he was running late owing to reoccurring traffic jams. Soon he realised that he was already late and by then the flight might have arrived. He was little sad and also an eerie feeling crept inside him . He did not know why. As the jam was taking a toll on his patience he walked forward to know the exact cause of the mess. An accident had occurred. A taxi collided with a bus and the driver and a lady passenger had expired.
A lady passenger……. ? That eerie sensation in Sandip rose again and he ran towards the site. Yes, it was Clara.

The oncoming lights brought Sandip back from his memories. Tonight Sandip was driving along the same road, the date was same and a storm blew just as hard. The downpour blurred his vision as the rains lashed against the windscreen. Before he could realise anything when the two blinding headlights came upon him. He could see no more… but yes, he could clearly see Clara. He could not be wrong. He was dead or so he thought…..

By Partha Sarathi Das , Times of India, Kolkata

Celebration... for some

ON a night like this, she would not have been out. But tonight, it was different.
Afzal’s friends had called up from a phone booth at midnight and said he was missing. Ameen said that he had been very drunk when they last saw him.

Ammi was already in the next room, kneeling near the west window, breathing heavily, head covered, muttering again and again: ‘bismillah hir rahmaanir raheem, bismillah hir rahmaanir raheem, bismillah hir rahmaanir raheem’.
Zeenat had stood in front of the mirror for a few minutes, wondering, looking at her own image as she toyed with the burkha in her hands. Abbu’s photograph hung limp on the wall behind her, frame askew, slightly discoloured, his black-and-white spectacles shiny against the grimy bricks. She closed her eyes; it was ten years since Abbu died on that bed, ten years since that last janaza prayer that still rang in her ears.

She wrapped the burkha around herself and left. It was the last day of the celebrations and the streets were bursting with fireworks, Hindi film music and the deafening noise of drums. The procession to immerse the goddess would start from the Park Circus maidan in a few hours; the crossing was already full of people wishing catch a last glimpse of the goddess before she disappeared into the waters for a year.

Ameen had said they had last seen Afzal near the pandal, tottering and screaming at the guards, screaming abuses at the goddess. Then he had apparently disappeared into the crowds, as the guards came after him. Ameen had said they were afraid he would be arrested.

Afzal was eighteen, he had dropped out of school at fourteen; Zeenat was twenty-six, a receptionist at a private hospital and very tired of her life. It was a good half hour past midnight when Zeenat entered the park and began to walk towards the pandal, looking everywhere in the crowd of faces for a sign of Afzal. All around, in chairs that girdled the immense grandiose pandal, people were sitting – mostly young men – in dhotis, pyajamas, embroidered kurtas. Some were evidently very drunk. They spoke loudly. They stared at her as she passed. One raised a finger, significantly. Someone sang: ‘Pardeh main rahne do, pardah na uthao, pardah uthh gaya toh…’, and whistled. He had a strong Bengali accent. His friends laughed loudly. Zeenat quickened her pace; the world looked very dark from behind the veil. It was as if there was a thin black film of dust on everything, and the lights shone grey on her face. There was no sign of Afzal. The boy in the kurta had followed her with one of his friends; they caught up with her behind the pandal. It was dark there, not too many people. Zeenat stared back as the boys leered: “Mera naam hai Shabnam, pyar se log mujhe Shabbo kahte hain.” Some girls in bright sarees and skirts passed them by, looking at her curiously and whispering. The boys did not turn around; they focussed on her, inching closer with every word. Zeenat walked backwards till she was pressed against the shiny cloth of the pandal, which caved in with her weight. There was a loud burst of light on the night sky, a cracker had gone off. The boys looked up, distracted. Zeenat ran. The air smelt of expensive alcohol. On the other side of the pandal, where the lights were brighter, she stood panting, peeling off her burkha, as people stared.
She wrapped it up in a bundle, shoved it into her bag and sighed. She felt safer. She walked a little way into the crowds.
People were no longer staring.
Time to look for Afzal.

BY Trina Nileena Banerjee, Times Of India, Kolkata

Stalker

RIYA adjusted the strap on her new pink top as she logged onto chat like every other evening. The top was expensive but a good buy, she decided. The messages started as soon as she logged on.
RaZor: “You look good in pink. You always bite your nails? Riya looked down at her nails, jagged at the edges.
RaZor: “I’m waiting for an answer.”
Riya stared blankly at the screen for few minutes when another message came in.

RaZor: “You don’t want to chat with me?

Riya turned sharply and looked around the café. “No, he isn’t here,” she realised.

For some months now this guy has been stalking and watching her every move. She has never seen him, but she can always feel his presence. She can even smell him, a musky smell of Gillette deodorant that she always liked. Her neighbour uses it a lot. She has confided this fact to her friends. But they cannot see him.
As soon as she entered her house, the phone rang.
“Hello?” said Riya.
“You didn’t have to run home. I didn’t want to scare you. Friends don’t scare each other,” said the voice from the other end. Riya froze.
“Look, relax and talk to me. I am standing right outside your house. Do you want me to come in?” asked the caller.
The black bike follows her school bus. She even saw it standing outside her school building. She wondered where the guy was. Curiosity got the better of her and she left the class to go to the washroom. As soon as she entered a hand grabbed her from behind. She gasped but the hand held her waist tight…she started to struggle to break free. Then she felt a warm breath on her neck. Her skin broke out in goose bumps. A voice whispered into her ear, “I never thought that I would get to hold you.” Riya screamed and fainted.
Since, that day she hasn’t returned home. Riya is undergoing psychological tests at the hospital. She is suffering from ‘hallucination disorder’. When she was a 10-year-old, her neighbour had raped her. She always was very close to the young guy and thought of him as her brother, so she could not accept that he would do such a thing to her. She hadn’t informed anyone of this incident, though she feared that it might happen again. She still can smell him around sometimes and just hopes he leaves her alone…
BY Anvesha Ganguly Times Of India Kolkata

Motive

EARLY morning on Jan 1, 2012 I wake up with a slight hangover of the New Year night as my intelligent alarm system goes off which triggers breaking stories across the world. I tried to sit up on my bed to turn off the alarm. But I could barely move. I pressed the laser button on the side of my bed that linked it to my mobile phone. I made the call. A voice answered, “Good morning, CMIR hospital. How can I help you?”
“Could you please send an ambulance…I think I have been poisoned.”

There was a momentary silence on the other side. I gave her my address. I hung up, accessed my camera through the laser beam, checked a particular video, and then turned on my laptop.

Dr S Roy was sitting in his study, looking intently into his mobile. It has been hours since he received the news of his friend’s tragic demise. And here, in his hands, lay the only decisive solution to the mystery. He read it again for the fifth time now:
“Sandy…need your help. I have been poisoned. Last night, I was late and drunk and in exhaustion, left my handy cam running. I know it’s my wife…but I don’t know what possible motive she could have had...Don’t inform cops. I’ve deleted the video. I wanted someone to know the truth…”
The doctor looked up from his mobile as a woman silently entered the room and took a seat opposite to his desk. He took a deep breath, and with deliberate emphasis said, “I got a mail from a man who was killed this morning, a childhood friend of mine. I must appreciate his intellect. He managed to figure out the culprit just moments before he passed out. And the assassin has been way too casual. Overlooked a running handy cam! Outrageous!”
“How very intriguing!” said the lady. He slowly walked to the woman and whispered closely into her ears.
He stared silently for a very long time before he whispered, “Of all people, he chose me to investigate the motive. So, before I kiss you, would you be kind enough to return my gun, Reema.”

She smiled.
By Somdotta Sarkar, Times of India, Kolkata

Life Changing Journey..

THE train is running faster than its usual speed was the thought, hitting Raghu’s senses,waking him continually. Forcing his 19 year old robust body, which needed rest very badly, turning again and again on the hard and narrow third class berth. He wanted to mould his muffler in those shapes which would protect him from this bone breaking cold.
He was behaving like a child in his sleep. He remembered his hostel mate warning him (arre kumbl wambl le le, December ka mahina hai, raat aisi thund giregi, gaand phat jaegi).
Raghu muttered something filthy, he felt small for not taking his mate seriously. Suddenly he got up! he was scared, the train was too fast for the meter gauge track. He looked around. Dimly lit bulbs, in the compartment, spreading something very pale, making fully covered passengers (very few) look like dead bodies. He had seen corpses in his college laboratory, dissected, fiddled, written notes on them, but they were naked. These unseen motionless faces...in spite the,’ wheel crushing the track,’ sound, Raghu hoped something lively from this deathly journey. And then someone moved, from the side berth. Raghu was too unaware to act normally, he twitched himself sharply, and he was too frightened to look. The body sat up then uncovered its face. Raghu forgot to breathe! Two beautiful eyes were on him. Her nose, thick lips smudged with lipstick, reminded him of some painting he had seen somewhere! The depressing yellow light was solidizing his thought making her very mystic. He wished her alive. Raghu’s spell was cut by her whisper.
“Aap kaha tak jaenge”?
Raghu got what he was hoping for, “Mujhe Laxman Garh utrna hai, aap kaha tak jaengi”?
She looked up then fixed her eyes on him. “Why is she looking at me in this manner”, Raghu thought’!
“Hume to aur aage jana hai, aapko thund lag rahi hai kya”?
Raghu felt challenged, He wasn’t ready yet he refused to give up. “Nai nai thund kaha hai, aur waise bhi mujhe sardi kum hi lagti hai.”
“To kaanp kyo rahe ho, body dikhane ka jyada shouk hai kya, mere pas moti chader hai, lelo!”
Though Raghu didn’t like her familiarity but then he was excited, he wondered why she was whispering! He was about to ask her something when she jumped, came towards him, put her hand on his mouth! He wasn’t ready for this! It all happened so fast, Raghu didn’t know how to react!
He could feel her touch. The smell of her body combined with perfumed hair oil and mehendi aroused him. His young, hard up for sex body, wanted to sleep with her instantly! Moving slightly away, she hissed in his ears, “Mera mard jag gaya, suno uski naak bol rahi hai, hum dono ki bat sunna chahta hai, thora chup raho, such much soega to naksiri bhi band ho jaegi”!
Suddenly Raghu felt very angry, ‘Why should any stranger force me to involve myself in such an unwanted situation’?
His desire was hit with her status. She is married, has a husband who is with her, made him feel trapped. But her act of being discreet, hiding their interaction from her husband, a sense of victory overpowered Raghu’s anger. He didn’t know how long they sat, holding each other, Raghu didn’t move, fearing she might change her mind.
Coming from a reasonably strict and conservative back ground, where he was allowed to do only, what he was told by his elders. His father wanted him to become a doctor like his father and grand father.
Raghu was feeling feverish, sweat trickled down, the muffler was irritating, he wanted to scratch but couldn’t. Slowly the snoring stopped. He inhaled her smell.
He heard, “Laddu khaoge? Kya parai karte ho?” H e didn’t react, she was so close, Raghu felt stiff. She moved away, must have understood.
She put herself on the pillow, “Mera mard umarwala hai, takatwala hai, par shakki bohot hai, shaadi hi hui hai bus, aur kuch nai.”
Raghu was desperate to hide his lower limb, placed the muffler, said,”Daktari par raha hun, aap ki umar kitni hai, mera matlab itni jaldi shaadi ho gai, aur sirf shaadi hui matlab?”
She looked, parted her dry, thick lips, her eye lashes lowering her liquid eyes, then she started laughing. It was a noiseless act, she thrust the pillow in her mouth, her face became red, her whole body was twitching, tears rolling down on her cheeks. She reminded Raghu of a convulsion patient who had come to their hospital with severe spasmodic pain.
‘Is she crying’! it was a stupid of a realisation, he turned himself, pretended as if nothing had happened. Then he heard her, this time he was afraid to look at her. “Tum ekdum bachhe ho, kuch nai malum, jindgi ko tawe pe dalo to pata chale, tum to man laga ke daktari paro, thodi neend le lo, station aaega jaga dungi.”
The train seemed much faster, giving Raghu a derailed feeling. He couldn’t understand whether it was a pain or a need to release, which one, was his limb experiencing. Raghu waited, hearing and wondering how the deafening roar of a train can create such an uncanny silence! Her bangles, ornaments, clothes, he could sense, hear, feel.
Her over powering presence looming large on him. Raghu felt very small, he hated his entire being, not even a tiny pang of protest or an answer, which could defend his immature self respect, remained. He was trying to collect his lost will without any hope when saw a bug coming out of the crack of the wooden plank and was approaching him very cautiously.
Ten years later
Dr Raghu Nandan Sharma, a very successful persona in his own right. Although lived on an easy street with his doctor father, never had to worry about any hard ships of life nevertheless his own skill and desire to rise made him what he was today. A doting wife with two lovely children and flourishing practice is what has made his life complete.
Day would begin very early. Dr Sharma is compassionate, caring and good in his job. People with poverty, rigidity and innocence love to rely on him. In spite of materialistic development and the culture to follow globalization, lots changes have taken place but Dr Raghu and his reputation is rock solid like his father. Sometimes his friends, who were with him in his medical college, come with their families. RAGHU enjoys with them a couple of drinks, they share and describe their past anecdotes, hiding or making up, and they play with time.
But at times, away from his commitments, responsibilities, patients and cases, when Raghu is alone (it happens very seldom), sits in the verandah on his easy chair, something happens.
It takes away everything from him, makes him blank, he becomes so vulnerable, surrendering, and numb.
Then a faint very faint sound, as if coming from afar, enters his mind, becomes louder and louder. A rumbling noise. He can’t detect, at first. Then it gets separated very gracefully. He recognizes the sound of a running train, bangles, clothes, body, snoring, shrill whistle. He can smell mehendi, perfumed hair oil, sweat. He closes his eyes, goes into a deep sleep. That night he doesn’t have food, doesn’t go to the bed room. No one dares to disturb him since everyone knows the outcome isn’t a very pleasant one. But no one minds or talks because of its rarity and non disturbing quality.
Initially, asked by his wife, Raghu explained. “Pata nahi charh gai hogi, peg to teen hi thae, daru zyada thi shaayad, fikar mat kiya karo.” Like a proper obedient house maker she doesn’t ask him again.
One day like any other day, Raghu was attending patients, when the sarpanch Bhaan Singh came, he requested Raghu to see one of friends who is suffering from some serious complications. Since this friend was living faraway, Bhaan Singh arranged Raghu’s stay at his friend’s residence; it was a common culture there, to look upon doctors like god.
Next morning, the jeep was ready, it was quite a tiring journey, by the time Raghu reached, night had fallen. Raghu looked at the big rusty gate from where the jeep was entering.It wasn’t a house or a villa. The fort seemed a shadow against the fast darkening sky, looming large, ready to gulp every thing like a monster, Raghu looked uncomfortably at the driver who was unusually silent through out the journey.
A huge figure emerged when Raghu got down, he gestured Raghu to follow, there was mixture of surfaced politeness and latent arrogance in him, Raghu was restless. They went inside, Raghu was surprised, the hall, with high ceilings, had many unlit chandeliers hanging, moving slowly, making musical notes with the incoming breeze. A lonely oil lamp, fighting feebly against the dark, getting more darker. Approaching the stair case, Raghu felt something moved behind, he was about to jerk in fear, when a strong hand grabbed him, “Shor nai karna daktar sab, ullu hai, abhi ande fute hai, char bachhe hai, aap daroge to ye garib bhi dar jaega, lachmi mai ke bachhe hai, chalie, hukum uper wale kamre me hai.”
Just above, at the entrance, was a loft, Raghu could see few thick black patches moving, making the darkness fluid. A hissing sound coming from the centre of the hole, threatening, ready to strike with out warning. Raghu went up swiftly. There he found a long corridor, large paintings of unknown warriors, dusty, rusty old weapons, armours. Hanging, as if they were about to fall.
Raghu followed the figure, he was surprised, the smell was very pungent in the room where he stood, ‘Is it hooch or some kind of a medicine’! he wondered. It took him sometime before he could actually see through the thin layer of smoke, someone lying on the bed, as he bent himself to see clearly, the stench became more prominent. A man wrappd up in dirty but expensive clothes looking like a corpse; suddenly the man, who guided Raghu, went near the body, spoke in high pitch. “Hukum, dagder saab aaye hai, thane dekhan ke waste, hukum, sunrya ho ke, dagder ji aaya hai.”
The body moved a bit, turned his contankerous face, slowly lifted his rickety hand,quickly the man went up to him, sat on the floor, put his ear near his mouth. Raghu felt nauseated, he was cursing Bhaan Singh, wanted to get away. “Hukum farma rahe hai, aj aap aaram karo, kal baat karenge, aapka kamra taiyar hai, muh haath dho kar khana kha lijie,chalie.” The stench, as if something was rotting, made the entrapped Raghu dizzy. He looked at the damnable body again, two crumpled eyes looking straight, filled with resentment, Raghu thought they want to curate his soul. He hurried himself out.
A constant moaning, ‘is it the grief which was unending,’ Raghu was not in a mood to give it much of an importance, just wanted to sleep. He didn’t want to drink at first but then, the nagging insistence from hukum’s man, friday and his own desire to relax, after so much of an ordeal, to refuse was also an exhaustion. Rich food topped with alcohol, Raghu enjoyed to the hilt, overlooked his rest too. But this prolonged moaning....he pushed his head under the damp heavy pillow, closed his eyes.
In his deep sleep, felt, someone shaking him, he opened his eyes, he must have been fast asleep, took time, then realized, the moaning stopped, he turned at the corner of the room where the sofa, almirah, bundled clothes were all jumbled up.
There he saw her, sitting....her one leg folded, looking at him. At first Raghu got confused, totally blank. ‘who is she’!, then the fright struck like a lightning. He opened his mouth to scream, couldn’t. He could feel a very soft but firm hand placed on his lips. He looked up. She was close, very close. “Shor na machaana,sab jag jaenge,pahchana nai? wo rail gaadi me, dus sal ho gaye us baat ko.”
And he recognized her instantly! All those years she kept coming in his dreams, same smell of mehendi, perfumed hair oil and amazingly she looked the same. He took her hand away, she was smiling. Raghu forgot, to ask how come, she was there!
She whispered, “Mai ghar ki malkin hun, tum jise dekhne aaye ho wo mera mard hai,tumhe bataya tha na. bus sirf shaadi hi hui hai,aur kuch nai,ab matlab mat puchne lag jana.” she started laughing, Raghu touched her lips then his hands were sliding down, they were full and round, she was murmuring, making sounds or was she moaning? Raghu was not in himself. Everything erased, went away from him. His wife, kids, reputation, everything. He ripped her lehenga, almost peeled her choli, wrung her nubile naked body. He could hear her, while making love. “Mai aj bhi kuwari hu, mujhe lelo, mera sab lelo.”

NEXT morning hukum died, they went to inform Raghu and witnessed a site which was horrendous, bizarre. They had to break the door. Raghu was naked, staring at every one like an animal. The sound coming from his throat was very loud almost like a banshee. They had to put him in a cage, he became so violent. Servants were busy preparing for hukum’s funeral. Now this haweli is empty. Rani died ten years back in a train accident. How? That remains a mystery till date. Hukum killed her ,he had seen her talking to a stranger in the train, hukum squeezed her windpipe, they say. But then rumour is a rumour after all.
Raghu’s wife went back to her parents taking the kids with her, his father couldn’t stand his son’s condition, died slowly and pain fully. Raghu lives in his unattended house with an old servant. He doesn’t talk to anyone during the day time. When the night falls, he behaves and very helpless... like a mad dog. Violent, naked, possessed.



By Arjun Chakraborty, Times of India, Kolkata
(Arjun Chakraborty is a National Award winning actor)

Press ESC to save

It was 3 am. Her bleary eyes were hooked on to the monitor. On screen the message read, ‘This game would take you beyond time into another dimension and nothing will be same again. To proceed, press Enter’. She thought for a second and pressed the key.
A message scrolled along with eerie music. Nimisha clicked on the tiny speaker icon at the bottom to stop the music, but it continued. Nimisha read the message, ‘The images of three people whom you hate will be displayed. They will be eliminated from your life. If you want them to live, you will have to press the ‘esc’ button within thirty seconds.’
Nimisha wondered if it was some kind of a prank, but a blurred image came up on the screen. The pixels congregated to give an image a short while after. A handsome man was smiling at her. It took only a fraction of a second to recognise the man, her boss, who had feigned undying love for her, backed out on the promise of marriage, forced her to have an abortion and fired her. She had not noticed the countdown timer ticking beside the image that seemed so real in 3-D, but as soon as it reached ‘0:00’, it flashed in red. The smiling face sulked and then the flesh peeled off and there remained on the screen a skull with a set of uneven teeth so very familiar to her.
Nimisha, sat trembling as her mobile phone started ringing with the same eerie tone, but she remembered that she had only changed her ring-tone that morning with a soothing jingle. Reluctantly, she picked it up. A gruff voice from the other end spoke,
‘This is sergeant Purokait. I got your number from the mobile phone of the man who has just died in a car accident at Chingrihata. We have managed to extract the body from the car, but the road is splattered with blood…’
Next on the screen was her politician uncle who had molested her during childhood. The same ethereal process was repeated on the screen. Nimisha was numb stuck as a short while later, the breaking news of a bomb blast in the house of the MLA that ripped his body appeared on the live TV feed on the top right corner of the screen.
Nimisha shivered wondering who was to be the next on the screen. It seemed to be eternity when the next form appeared on the screen. It was the picture of a young woman and Nimisha did not have to wait till the haze lift to recognise who she was. It was the face she saw everyday in the mirror. Almost in a trance, she frantically searched for the ‘esc’ button, but could not locate it. She froze in panic. The countdown timer ticked, 20-19-18….


By Shubha Ranjan Saha, Times Of India Kolkata

Surprise !!!

RIYA adjusted the strap of her new pink top as she logged on to chat like every other evening. The top was expensive but a good buy she decided. The messages started as soon as she logged on.
RaZor: U look good in pink….
Sweet Riya 89: Who r u?
RaZor:U alwayz bite your nails? Riya looked down at her nails, jagged at edges.
RaZor:I'm waiting 4 an answer….
Sweet Riya 89: Who is this?
RaZor: You look good with your hair down… Involuntarily her hands reached out and tied her hair into a ponytail…
RaZor: Why did u do that? Stop looking here and there…no use… She was dumfounded. A strange feeling seized her. Her throat parched and she felt her heartbeat quickening.
Sweet Riya 89: Who r u?
RaZor: Letz celebrate Ur 19Th birthday in some special way….. Is this Aditya or some friend who is playing a prank on me? Is Aditya back from Delhi, wondered Riya.
Sweet Riya 89: First tell me…….do I know u?
RaZor: Maybe………. Riya considered – Maybe they are planning a surprise birthday party?
Sweet Riya 89: Adi…I am not scared…
RaZor: I am not Aditya…….but better than him….
Sweet Riya 89: STOP IT ADI !!!
RaZor: Meet and find out……

Riya hoped for a pleasant disclosure. Suddenly the door-bell broke her reverie. Opening the door, she found an envelope lying on the floor.
"In Hotel Paradise, a girl in pink top was stabbed to death. Both hotel staff and police failed to trace her identity. Her face is distorted with acid. The murder weapon is missing and there are no clues apart from a few blood stains. The decorated room, birthday cake and wine tell a sad tale of a death on birthday. Reporter Jeevan Shingvi with cameraman Prasant…"
Aditya switched off the television and inquired, "Did you ask Sonia to bring Riya here…at eight?"
'It’s already eight thirty…can't wait to watch her reaction…oh!! …where are you Riya?' he muttered.
By Shubha Ranjan Saha, Times Of India, Kolkata

See You.. Later

With bated breath and a fluttering heart he had entered the exhibition gallery. His eyes needed no instruction to locate her.
Resplendent in a blue sari, her favourite colour, which he realised he still remembered, she was giving an interpretation of her paintings. He stood there, quietly, unnoticed, wishing that she would see him, when their eyes met. But his trembling heart was not rewarded with even a flicker of recognition.

Twice he attempted to talk to her but was given an oblivious stare and a wretched feeling arose which advocated the fact that she had forgotten him. He stood there, right in front with a torn shirt and blood trickling down his forehead. His ever careful self in today’s flurry had dropped the caution and met with an accident. But now being forgotten seemed more terrible than dying! With a dejected heart he walked towards the exit and started his long walk back home.
It was a terrible night! With a storm brewing and dark clouds gathering, he smiled, thinking perhaps it was pathetic fallacy! He looked at his wrist, not finding the watch he realised he must have dropped it at the accident site. It was her last gift. His mind began enacting the accident for him as he walked back. He looked down to find that the left side of his trouser was a bloodied mess and it made him wonder as to how he could still walk! What appeared more amazing was that nobody on the streets seemed to notice. Seeing a man coming towards him, he asked the way back but the man simply walked away. Miffed he asked another but the response remained unchanged even from the fifth man. He recollected that strangely enough the guard at the gallery had not asked for the entry pass from him.
Seeing a huge crowd at the accident site, he realised looking for the watch would be next to impossible. Suddenly he saw a man slyly getting away with his watch. As he tried to catch the man he caught a glimpse of the body which was being carried towards the ambulance. With a sudden jolt he stopped short in his tracks.
It was his body. Tonight he had died.

BY Neepa Sarkar, Times Of India, Kolkata

Lil Sis

HE could never imagine he would be chosen for this bizarre game… to watch a horror film in an auditorium… alone. He considered it a brilliant stroke of luck. After all, the prize money isn't a joke. Five lakh. And this time, there's nobody to claim a share…
He munched on popcorn. Silhouette of a dilapidated castle. Dog howling. Gnarled trees. So predictable. He chuckled.
He drifted off into daydreaming about the sleek car he has been drooling over for months. In another two hours, it'd be almost as good as his. Something in the screen caught his attention. A car — his dream car — speeding down a winding road. That's a coincidence, he smiled. But he isn't the kind to believe in coincidences…
A girl walking down the same road with her back to him. A shiver goes down his spine. He knows that limp… She stoops and picks something up. Even in the half-light, he can see that the doll she picked up has on a blue dress with white lace. His popcorn bag falls to the ground. He sees it everyday, at his mother's bosom, soggy with the tears his mother has shed for ten years.
He had always felt a scorching hatred every time he looked at her. His twin. The girl who made it impossible for him to have anything for himself – parents, friends, chocolate bars, room, or even a birthday. It'd always have been like that. With her limp, she'd never have got married. He knew. He had eavesdropped on his parents. Ten years after he pushed her off the cliff in Shimla, he still hates her.
She looks up at the castle. Then at the red car parked outside. He grips the hand-rest with clammy hands to stop himself from shaking. Sweat pours down his forehead. The door of the castle creaks open. She enters… He can't see her anymore. He can make out a dark room to the right.
A blinding flash of light so typical of horror movies. A piercing scream. From his own throat. Lying on the ground is the person he admires in the mirror every morning, covered in blood…
He stumbles out of the theatre and starts walking, as if in a trance. He knows where to go. He can make out the silhouette of a towering castle, flanked by gnarled trees. The door creaks open. He isn't scared anymore. He looks at the room to his right, steps inside and waits… the dog howls…
By Anwesha Bhattacharya, Times of India, Kolkata

Foul Play

SHE was bored. The music was pumping. The drinks were flowing. And she was dressed to kill. She stood in front of the bar, running her eyes over the couples slow-dancing. And then she saw him… ‘What is he doing here?”
Jaswant Verma, also known as JV Owner of a construction company. Aditi had met him through Rahul, her college sweetheart and now beloved husband. JV was rumored to have had a shady past but was more popular for being seen at almost every party in town.
Muscular, with a slightly bald plate and a beer belly, Aditi found him unattractive. Tonight was one of those rare days that Aditi went out without Rahul. Rahul’s friends were her friends, his family her own. Being an orphan raised by her aunt, in Rahul, Aditi had found a reason to live.
Rahul also considered her his lucky charm, for since their marriage, his career had seen an unexpectedly steep rise and several ‘Best performer’ awards later, today at 37, he was a vice-president of a leading MNC insurance company.
Aditi had got used to the good life, with Rahul, but now with his career and the crazy deadlines he faced, she found herself going to sleep alone, most nights of the week. Calling him, resulted in disconnection of the call and a subsequent message: “Busy in a meeting. Don’t wait 4 me. Love you, my princess. Good night.”
“Hi, what you doing here?”
“Just taking a break, had a tough week”.
“You are looking hot”.
“Shut up, J”.
“Its really crowded here, let’s take that seat on the back.”
The phone rang. Rahul. She had begged and pleaded with him for the whole week to accompany her to the party. He had promised her he would and then cancelled it a couple of days earlier, citing a sudden visit by foreign clients. Rahul again. Again. Why didn’t he just understand that she wouldn’t receive the call. If he wanted to talk with her, he should have been there with her. The phone vibrated and as Aditi almost pressed the ‘Cancel’ button, she saw ‘Baba’. Her father-in-law.
“Hello, Mamon? Shob shesh hoye gechhe! Rahul has been murdered and his body is lying in a pool of blood in the bathroom...Ekkhoni bari chole esho.”
Her trembling fingers disconnected the call and she just closed her eyes. Rahul’s face and their first date flashed across her mind. He had worn her favourite shirt to office today. She slowly opened her purse, took out five neatly bundled 10,000 rupee stacks and handed them to J.
“Thanks”.
“Heard he put a helluva fight... Those years at the gym, almost paid off. No wonder his teenage couldn’t take her hands off him!”
“Shut up, J”.
“Some champagne or the regular Bacardi Coke?”
“Some Vodka and Red Bull. Have a long night ahead. Can you drop me home?”

Freedom, At Last

The same pain filled every nook and corner of his being every single day. But then again it wasn’t pain was it? It was actually the feeling of numbness that took the breath out of his .The most lucid of emotions seemed like a lost lover. Something he remembered very well, yet could not experience, no matter how hard he tried.

Life for him was like a blur of events, people and emotions. Not knowing what is happening or why. People would go for parties and enjoy themselves. However, even in fancy get-togethers he inevitably felt lost and lonely, even while being surrounded by a sea of faces. People wanted to reach out to him, yet his paralytic spirit confined him to a dark room, with solitude for company.

He was jealous, envious and had fallen prey to all of those little green demons one keeps bottled up inside. However, he could always escape from himself if he wanted to. His friends circle had taken care of that — booze, rave parties and the syringes took care of his problems time and again. But then again, there were times when even those were not available. He, however, had found a solution to that also. Jagged, neat lines carved along his hands and arms made him reconnect with the world once again. He felt human again once the blood started flowing. Otherwise he would start to feel like those zombies from Dawn of the Dead.

Ranvir had tried to distance himself from the world for long enough, but it just wasn’t possible. Somehow, everyday brought along with it a new bunch of messed up situations that always seemed to revolve around his wackiness and stupidity. So he used to stay away from all kind of social occasions. And in the process came severe pangs of loneliness and desperation. Tonight, was one of those nights. He did not want to interact with anyone but at the same time wanted to break free from the shackles of his house and his mind — forever. It was raining like crazy and the weathermen had predicted 24 hours of continuous rain. It was difficult to even make out what lay ahead on the slushy road. The glare of the headlights was just a blur. He welcomed the truck with a relieved smile as it raced towards his slim frame.

BY Kabir Singh Bhandari, Times of India, Kolkata

Play On !!

It was 3am.

Her bleary eyes were hooked on to the monitor. On screen, the message read-

"This game would take you beyond time into another dimension and nothing will be same again. To proceed, press Enter".

She thought for a second and pressed the key...

Swati figured that it was a joke.

But then, her screen went black.

She felt cold.

Then, four words appeared on the screen: "Welcome to the Death Zone".

The words dissolved and a message came on the screen:

"We are a community of people who are now dead. We committed suicide. We did it for sake of this game. This game will give you everything you want, but you will pay for it with your soul. If you're ready, please press enter".

She pressed enter out of curiosity to see what would happen. Another message followed:
"Thank you for registering. You are now a Death Zone member. Time is no longer relevant. Funds of USD 40 million have been transferred into your bank account for your own use..."

Swati smiled. It was followed by a scream as she saw her internet bank account was up by USD 40 million.

She started to dance. But there was no joy. She felt overwhelmed at the thought of spending so much money.

The next day she went to ritzy clothes shops and bought everything. She walked into a car showroom and bought each model. She bought a large house in the Salt Lake. With the money came fame and fortune. But she was hollow inside.

There was a fire in her old house the very day she had bought her new house. All her family were killed. But she could not cry.

Swati began to understand what the game meant.

The frustration drove her to sell her property. The day after the sale, she was found dead on her bed after taking cyanide.

Somewhere in Bangalore, the same message appeared on Puneet's monitor.....

By Sumit Kumar, Times of India, Kolkata

Goal !!!

Venue: The Albemarle Auditorium, 50 Stone Street

Time: midnight

Rohan ran his eyes over the computer screen.

"It's not a game," he thought. "There's a reward of Rs 50,000...it must be from some loony. Well, it will pay the advance of my new flat."

He arrived fifteen minutes before the scheduled time. As he entered, he realized that there was no one at the reception. But there, under the single dreary lamp, on the long corridor, was a dark solitary figure. He walked towards it.

Its face was turned away from him. Rohan noticed the figure pointed to the reception desk. Hypnotized, Rohan turned back to the desk. He was taken aback to see an entry pass on the desk. Rohan turned around to look at the mysterious figure but to his horror, he realized that it had vanished.

Rohan paused for a moment and then nervously walked towards the entry. The hall was empty. He took his seat and looked at his wristwatch. Its hands met at 12 o'- clock.

He heard a low and dull but distinct sound. The sound a watch makes when enveloped in cotton.

And then... He realizes that the noise has increased.

The screen flickers. The picture of a crowded football ground...several booted feet chase the ball to the goalpost. A goalkeeper wearing a black jersey stands attentively as the ball heads towards his direction.

Rohan's eyes narrow as he looks at the jersey. It has the 'number eleven' etched on it. His nerves tingle. He breaks into a blind run through the deserted auditorium onto the moonlit road.
The whole city is deserted.

Rohan runs and runs as he remembers.

Sanjay Dhanraj. The best goalkeeper in town from Rohan's rival team

"I was the best striker before he came. But soon, he took the attention away from me. Did he really think that I was going to teach him some moves after dark?" he thinks.

Rohan remembers that evening well... Sanjay bleeding profusely after being hit with his hockey stick... his own hands burying the body... feeling so happy... so relieved.

Busy in his thoughts, Rohan has not realized that he's standing in a football ground. In the distance he can make out a goalpost. A tall figure stands in front of the goalpost. Rohan senses that it is tense. And it's listening to him.

Sweating like a terrified beast, he runs towards it. And then he sees the number 11 on the jersey. He gasps.

"Sanjay!" he whispers. An extraordinary laugh echoes around him. And then, he collapses.

By Ishani Hore, Times of India, Kolkata

Love forever

She could not believe her eyes. He was still the same-tall, dark, handsome with that killer smile.

She wiped away the tears, a tribute to those old days.

But she could not stop watching him even after those five stormy years.

She was lost in thought when he suddenly he came in front of her and held out his hand.

"Hi!"

"Hi ..." she said sheepishly.

"I went to the film festival last week. I wasn't aware that you were so talented. Congrats."

"Thanks ....how are you?" she asked.

"So-so yaar, life is playing nasty tricks on me."

She did not want to discuss anything personal with him. But she blurted out in concern: "Why? What happened?"

"Strange! You don't know? "

"I went abroad for a shoot... so...but what happened?"

"After our break-up I was going around with Smita. She was killed in a car accident. I just don't know what made her drive the car to Salt Lake at 1am. Then I was engaged to Ananya. She fell from the top floor of her flat. I was accused and was held in the custody for a few days. But there was no proof. It seems my life is cursed."

He stopped to take a breath.

She loved him with all her heart. "So sad. What are you doing now?" she asked.

"I am the heir to our family business and recently we have founded a management school near Alipore."

"Good. So get married now."

He smiled, "I am engaged to someone."

"Who?"

"Neha. We were in the same institute for our MBA."

"Great."

He smiled again, "She is a nice, caring, understanding girl...."

She was silent.

He checked his watch, "I have some business to attend to. Best of luck with your career. I watched the movie where you acted as the murderer. That was simply great. Good night."

He walked away.

She clicked her tongue. "Good night," she whispered, a smile on her sensual lips.

Neha would be the next one on her list.


By Namrata Deb Roy, Times of India, Kolkata

Chatroom..

Riya adjusted the strap in her pink top as she logged on to chat every other evening. The top was expensive but a good buy, she thought.

The messages started as soon as she logged in.

 

RaZor: u look good in pink

SweetRiya89: who r u?

RaZor: u alwayz bite your nails? 

 

Riya looked down at her nails jagged at edges.

 

RaZor: I am waiting 4 an answer...

 

Riya racked her brains. But as always, she knew who it was.

 

SweetRiya89: you again in the blue shirt. ...your shoes are dirty as usual

RaZor: never mind the shoes, I hardly walk now

SweetRiya89: this was the same pair you wore that day

RaZor: the new blue shirt remained unstained...thank god for small mercies

SweetRiya89: but you were already late when you left

RaZor: exactly, that was the reason why I drove so fast

SweetRiya89: this is the same pink top I chose to wear for our rendezvous

RaZor: ha ha, me blue and you pink. Me sky and you a charming rose

SweetRiya89: grow up!

RaZor: yeah surely I would have....had not fate intervened

SweetRiya89: your humour sucks. And just imagine, I had bought this pink top to up the glam quotient in your eyes. Look at the state it is in right now

RaZor: you're jealous because my blue shirt looks brand new

SweetRiya89: I will give you new shoes if you give me a sexy pink top

RaZor: who's gonna see you anyway?

SweetRiya89: so what? I want to feel beautiful in your arms

RaZor: love is beyond body Riya. That is why we are inseparable now

SweetRiya89: guess what my dad would say if he saw us now? Do you remember that we met at this very cyber café?

RaZor: you were looking so lovely with your kohl-lined eyes. But let us not discuss the past

SweetRiya89: that is why I am here with you. You had planned to get your hair streaked and I had an appointment with the mehndi wala....

RaZor: please Riya, enough. Memories of events are past now. You are my present

SweetRiya89: I am your future too...

 

RaZor yawned and wiped away an imaginary speck from his shirt...Riya was lost her in thoughts

 

RaZor: let's leave. This café is totally burnt out

SweetRiya89: let me log out

RaZor: we have already logged out

SweetRiya89: I told you that your humour sucks

 

The fire had ravaged the entire café a few years ago. Still, the burnt computer gleamed in darkness. Nothing stirred as they left. A dog howled somewhere. They left as quietly as they had arrived.

 

By Manish Raj, Times of India, Kolkata

 

Bizzare Games.. people play

HE could never imagine he would be chosen for this bizarre g a m e … t o watch a horror film in an auditorium …alone…

Joshua ruefully wondered exactly what made him opt for an undercover society in college called the Czars of Babylon, in spite of being an active member in other sensible societies like theatre and western music. He decided it was his immeasurable curiosity and a quest for something really off-the wall that drove him to sign that cursed membership form.

Now by virtue of being a full-fledged member, he was obliged to undertake certain tasks, which would establish the fearlessness of every Apollyon, the name by which every member of the club was addressed.

Even though Joshua didn’t give two hoots for proving his intrepidness, he would still have to bear the formidable wrath of the living nightmare, Holly Hubber, the society president, if he refused to comply.

He now weighed his options, “Almost every escape door is tightly bolted. I really have no choice.” Reluctantly, he resolved to take the plunge. HE vaguely reasoned that even if this inane task led to his untimely demise, he would at least acquire his riddance from this blasted society for all times to come.

And so on a grey overcast Sunday afternoon, he was quietly ushered into the society auditorium.

Joshua’s throat was dry and he made futile efforts to steady his trembling feet. At the far end of the auditorium, Joshua perceived a lone figure waving at him. It was Holly Hubber directing Joshua to be seated.

Even in this dimly lit auditorium, Joshua could faintly discern the jeering smirk on Hubber’s face. Joshua was turning paler by the minute. Eventually the movie started and Hubber disappeared into the darkness. Joshua tightly held on to his seat.

The movie was curiously titled ‘All Fools, but the Fool’. It gradually progressed from creating an atmosphere of eeriness to the grotesque. The plot revolved round a circus joker being possessed by the spirit of a slain transgender seeking revenge.

Holly Hubber was lurking on the fringes, unseen by Joshua, waiting for him to shriek in terror like previous scapegoats. But to her utter astonishment, Joshua was smiling away all throughout the movie in admiring wonder and did not betray the slightest trace of fear.

After the movie ended, Hubber accosted Joshua and inquired in a thundering tone, “You bum bailey, what was so funny?”

Joshua serenely replied, “Well, the movie was a videotaped version of a play we performed on Halloween’ s eve last year and guess what, I played the joker!”

It was Hubber’s turn to feel weak in the knees and stare blankly at the retreating figure of Joshua.

By Neha Jain Times Of India, Kolkata

Stunt

SHE was bored. The music was pumping. The drinks were flowing. And she was dressed to kill. She stood in front of the bar, running her eyes over the couples slowdancing. And then she saw him. She hadn't expected this chance to drop so easily into her grasp. She watched him through the fug of cigarette smoke and Novocaine in her head. The tawdry disco lights shone on his gleaming black hair and the silk lapels of his tux. For a moment she felt that tiny flame of desire glow between her legs before the pain snuffed it out.

 

Well, he was here, at this party for junior artistes, spot boys and riff raff. The democratic director slumming it the night before the launch of Barriers, his sixth major movie: Karan Jehaan Adyar, trendsetter of youth cinema, the man who breaks barriers. The screen hero in any of his works was just a puppet for this man's legend to use and discard. She began smoothly to weave through the crowd towards him. When I'm finished with you, she thought as he turned his thousand-watt smile on her, you'll just be the man who breaks.

 

'Hello,' he said. She knew he'd only greeted an attractive woman in a black velvet dress; he hadn't a clue who she was

 

'You're…Naina, aren't you?'

 

She cursed privately. He did know who she was.

 

'How are you?' he gushed, a small frown nevertheless nestling between his perfect brows.

 

'But… weren't you in hospital? You had an accident, in that last stunt, where Pooja was supposed to go over the cliff on the stolen bike. Wasn't that you?'

 

She shrugged. 'I'm all better now, as you can see. Thank you for asking.'

 

He grinned. 'Well, you certainly look well in that dress.'

 

'I like to do my job thoroughly,' she said without a flicker of emotion

 

The stunt had been doomed from the start; three takes and the camera had failed every time. On the fourth, a bad safety net had smacked her into the rocks below. The boy who had strung it up was new; Karan never kept his staff for long. He was too exacting, too brusque

 

'No doubt,' he said, his eyes on her body. 'Want to come and stand on the terrace with me? It's awfully hot in here.'

 

She turned without a word; he followed. He had once told a magazine, 'I'm a sucker for mysterious women. All these screaming fans thrust their autograph books at me; I tell them, you're doing it all wrong!'

 

She smiled. She knew how to do it right. When he came out on to the terrace she was zipping up the leather jacket.

 

He gasped: the Hayabusa gleamed in the moonlight. 'How did you get that up here?'

 

'The same way I'll get it down. Are you coming?'

She saw the greed in his eyes. 'Let me drive.'

 

'Once we're on the highway.'

 

He was barely on when she gunned the engine and roared up the slanted roof of the lobby. And then there was only air and a soft purr, and below them bright car-shapes like sweets in a box. And then the grassy bank at the end of the hotel's garden came up like a friend's hand; she kissed it lightly with the back wheel humming with power, and they were running level on the ground as though the jump had never happened.

 

'Wow!' he said. 'You…you ride amazingly.'

 

'I've had a lot of practice.' She knew he was hooked. A fierce jolt of triumph and pain ran through her battered body, and she squeezed the bike with her knees. Come on baby, do this for me, gently now, gently…

They hit the highway at a hundred and forty. 'Hey, you said you'll let me drive.' But he sounded nervous. This stretch was fairly straight, but up ahead the mountainside loomed with its hairpin bends and blind corners.

 

'Of course,' she took his hands one by one and placed them on the handlebars.

Then, steadying the steering with one hand, she swung a leg round the bike, turned and straddled him.

 

'Look over my shoulder and drive,' she said, as the leather jacket flew away on the wind.

 

'Do you think we should…' but the thought of what they were doing melted his protest. It wasn't that it was pleasurable or even comfortable, but it was legend.

 

She could see in his eyes all the music videos and bad B flicks he'd seen where the girl does just this to the man, and they held him in the pincers of his dreams.

She unzipped the dress and pulled it over her head. Some of the bandages went with it, and fresh blood spilled from her ribs. She didn't cry out. The skin from her back flapped in the slipstream like ragged flags. She wrapped her arms round him. Her feet held the steering dead straight and she looked deep into his eyes as they ran out of road.

 

By Rimi B Chatterjee, Times Of India, Kolkata

 

 

Tonight he was a man on a mission

Tonight he was a man on a mission. He moved swiftly through the empty streets as the clock struck one. He moved through the shadows like a ghost to maintain minimal presence and contact. After fifteen minutes he finally reached his destination. The tall, dark, eerily silent apartment in front of him sent a shiver down his spine. He loved watching horror movies.

But this was a different experience for him altogether. However, he could not just turn back and run away. His life depended on the task that he had come to complete.
He entered the apartment and moved up to the third floor swiftly in the dark. He walked down to the door and stood in front of it silently while putting his gloves on. Feeling convinced that no one was around he slowly turned the doorknob.

The lock had already been decommissioned during his last visit. The door opened with a creaking sound that seemed to be enough to even awaken the dead. He sneaked into the room like a silent assassin and slowly moved towards the bedroom. The fact that the room was dark did not affect him at all. He avoided any collision with the furniture... After all he had been there just a few hours ago.

He slowly pushed the door open. The room still had the sweet fragrance of the perfume she had put on that night. He slowly moved towards the bed where he had left her. He had to find his revolver before the police came up. He tried to switch on the lights only to realize that he had himself had disconnected the wires on his last visit. On his knees, he started searching the floor for his gun. He had dropped it right there beside the bed after shooting her. Yet it was nowhere to be found. He
started to sweat, something must have gone horribly wrong. She had promised that she would come back to avenge his betrayal and hunt him the same way. He could suddenly feel a warm breath on his shoulder and the fragrance getting stronger. He looked up.
The cold barrel of the revolver touched his forehead. A shot ended it all.

By Abhishek Roy, Times of India, Kolkata

ON a night like this, he would not have been out. But tonight, it was different..... He had to meet his mystery caller

ON a night like this, he would not have been out. But tonight, it was different.He had to meet his mystery caller.

Streets were dark and empty, as they usually were in this small suburban town. It was drizzling softly. Not a soul stirred out of doors. But Tapan carried on. Something inside told him he must not be afraid. He had tucked a dagger in his hip pocket.

Every night over the last week, he had heard the message, "Come to the old temple at 11;30 tonight". The strange part was, he had not heard it from anybody with his ears. The message, it appeared, was transmitted direct into his brain intermittently. He had dismissed it initially and thought he needed more sleep. But it kept coming back.

It wasn't the sort of thing he could confide in anybody. And something inside told him that he should obey. He was getting increasingly restless every day. Then tonight, he had decided to end the suspense once and for all.

The old temple was at one desolate end of the town. It did mean something to him because it was here that nearly year ago he and two others had....Could that have something to do with this ? But that's absurd.

The drizzle had stopped. A dog barked somewhere. He could hear his own footfall clearly, the only sound in this cold, silent night. He crossed the broken gate of the temple and stopped in his tracks. A figure had suddenly materialized from the darkness. It seemed to have a shine about it and Tapan recognized the face. He froze. Something cold ran down his spine. A diabolic smile appeared on the figure's face. "But you're dead", Tapan screamed hoarsely.

"Yes, I am. So are those two friends of yours. You'll join us now".
Tapan could not even think of pulling out his dagger. The figure closed in in a flash. Tapan felt ten fingers around his throat. They were cold as ice and hard as steel...... Tapan stood up and looked down at his own body. Yes, it felt lighter and better.

A year ago, he and two other party colleagues had murdered Rabi at this spot. Rabi had turned into a police informer. Well, he had had his revenge. But something had to be done about this. Rabi couldn't be killed again. But...Tapan considered...Rabi had left behind a younger brother named Raju.....

Later that night, Raju's brain received a message. Come to the old temple at 11.30 tonight..........

By Manojit Mitra, Times Of India, Kolkata