The Dragon Slayer

As the big boy went past the little dragon, he could see the dragon struggling to hurt him. 

6 hours ago, he had set out on a gloomy cloudy day to slay the beast and bring peace to his little village from the menace bestowed upon them. The one eyed mystic had foretold that there will be a warrior amongst them, shining clearly through his crystal ball, who will bring order to their world. 

As he treaded through the forest, looking through to the way where the beast resided, he noticed the weather clearing and almost a rainbow glow flowing through the horizon. At the same time, he felt great big eyes gazing. Almost as if the expectations of his kin had taken shape and keeping a watchful eye. 

Through the mouth of the blazing mountain, a volcano containing the fire fueled by the angst of the beast burnt red. The flames of his malice put fear in the hearts of travellers. 

With an icy cold heart and resolve of steel, he paved on to slay this beast. That's when he realised the futility of his actions and resolve. Alas, the beast was gigantic, and he was not the hero foretold. 

Here lay another dragon, from the village of Newt, who came to slay the large man beast, but was met with the same fate as those before him.

Horsin’ Around

There once was a horse who lived on a large farmland with grassy fields and wide-open plains. There were endless fields of tall green and yellow grass with trees, sunshine, and a lake nearby where the horse lived. The horse used to gait and walk, canter and gallop all day long. The horse ate grass when he liked. The horse rested and ran as his heart pleased. The horse enjoyed an untethered and pleasing existence.

But one fine day, the horse’s head caught a strange notion while walking in the fields. The horse thought that he had been doing what he does for a long time now. And will probably continue to do the same things furthermore in life. Then the horse’s mind had an unsettling thought. The horse wondered if there was more to life than all that he did in his days and in his nights. Upon careful pondering, the horse became convinced that there is certainly more to life than this. There must be something else which would give deeper meaning to the horse’s existence.

In his intense thought, the horse observed the other creatures around the vast lands. There were flocks of sheep, bands of jays, colonies of ants, gulls, herds of cattle- cows, goats & pigs. All sorts of wild and domestic animals were together in that land. All animals were together in pairs, or families or simply in groups. This assured the horse that he had now discovered what was missing- affirmation from someone else and kinship. The horse had to become a part of something where he was also acknowledged for his existence.

Engaged in thoughts, the horse one day came across a pond. The pond had all sorts of fish in it. The horse was engrossed and enticed by the lives of the fish. The horse observed all the fishes living and doing so many things together. The fish travelled together, ate together, laughed together and spent time together. The horse saw different fishes mingling together, swimming from school to school and often accompanied by their favourite companions. The horse saw them living their lives happily and was almost envious of them having a past, a present and a bright future together. The horse hadn’t fully understood it yet, but their peace and harmony made him feel this is something worth pursuing in life.

After many days of earnest deliberation, the horse made up his mind to join the fish. The horse decided that he would jump into the pond to proceed in his quest for a more heartfelt form of life. The horse genuinely believed that if he finds the right fish to be with, he is going to resolve his heart’s yearning.

With his eyes and mind set on jumping in, one late afternoon, the horse reached the pond. Just as the horse was about to jump inside, something strange happened. Something ordinary but revealing. The horse saw his own reflection in the pond’s water. And then dawned upon the horse, a moment of consciousness and clarity. The horse, through his reflection, realized a simple thing. Something which he had all but forgotten recently. The fact that he is a horse.

Suddenly a brainwave rushed through the horse’s head. The horse noticed how mistaken he was by trying to fit in with the fish in his quest for a deeper meaning to life. The horse distressingly discerned that he is a horse and wasn’t meant to be with fish or live like them. The horse was supposed to neigh, gallop, whinny and run about in the fields.

The fish represented contentment and it was alluring to live with and just like them, the horse recognized that no number of fish or swimming would make the horse happier or satisfied. Because the truth is that the horse is a horse. And the horse would neigh and run, as horses do. The horse cannot swim like the fish or live life like them, however important it may seem.

This made the horse turn back onto the fields of his vast land. The horse accepted his life and role as a horse. The horse decided he will not try to be something he is not and embrace his own way of life. This made the horse discover his own individual self and accept himself, his lifestyle as it was. As it is supposed to be. All things, good or bad, are supposed to happen to the horse in the same life. The horse now successfully acknowledged and embraced himself and went back to his life of neighing, eating grass and galloping around.

The horse now rediscovered his lost sense of self and learnt that acceptance sometimes, for some animals, must come from within.

"The author feels getting older isn't helping his growing up much.

And he is slowly becoming Mr. Peanutbutter"

Runners Up

“ughhfoo” ”ughhfoo”, he was panting. With heavy breaths, he was running. As fast as he could. He never was much of a runner, the idea exhausted him but he was running. In the dark of night, the hoots of owls were apparent. “At this hour” “At this place”, he thought to himself. “Why would the owls make the noise they do?” “Do they see me” “do they acknowledge me” “why’d they fly here” “animals are not sentient beings, their actions can’t be questioned or be mistaken for a divine sign”. That’s what he did. That’s what he always did. Contradicted himself.  Saying one thing, then another, never reaching a conclusion where he could agree with himself. This was a conflict he fought through his whole life and when it became unbearable, he decided to run. But to where and from what? “Pat!” he collided with an old lady, she fell on the road. He didn’t stop. Looking back he saw people helping her and cursing him but he didn’t stop nor did anyone try to make him. Somewhat similar to that other night. He didn’t stop even then. If he had, a man’s life would’ve been spared. Two years ago, he was running or jogging really fast would be more appropriate. It was merely his second day after he made a vow to become shapely. On the very first day he realised how boring it can be. All the while his mind tried to convince him to go back to his comfortable lifestyle. So to avoid it he carried his music with him the next day. With headphones on the loudest, he wasn’t even listening to his own thoughts and that was the intention. Outside noises were completely non-existent. It was like he wasn’t running on road but in a white plain. Nothing around, nothing for miles only the blinding whiteness all over. He hears a loud screech. Just then his world shatters. “Glass? Was that glass?” he asks himself wondering about the big thump he’d just heard. A horn blowing constantly, beeeeeeeeeeeeppppppp! And he’s back to his senses. He realised the world he’s in. He’s out of the park now, it never occurred to him that he was already on road. He looks back; at the back is his misfortune as he looks in horror at the bloody head of the driver who crashed into the traffic light. He goes to him, shakes his body, tries to help him but he’s already dead. There was glass all over the car’s hood. Here he wondered to himself, such is his fate. The place was so desolate he couldn’t find any help from anywhere. He cursed the moment he decided to bring an mp3 player instead of his phone. He then searched the body for a phone. He found one, immediately called 112. The emergency services arrived, cops arrived. He told them what he desperately wanted to believe himself. “So how’d it happen?”, constable Dogra asked. “I was out for my regular jog before dawn breaks and I found this person with his car collided with the traffic signal”, he replied. “So nothing else?” “No, nothing else sir”. “Seems like an accident, the driver must’ve fell asleep. During these hours it’s pretty common”. “Yes you are very right sir”, he said constantly doubting his own statement, wondering “is he dead because of me?”

He was running, this is what mattered. He was running now, not what happened two years ago, not what drove him to this madness but what he was doing and he was running now. “shunnnnn!” he hit a window. But he kept going. “The windows in my room are kinda stuck, their lock is rusty” “but not that it matters now”. He kept running. “Faster, faster, faster” “no no no, stomach cramps stomach cramps, “slower slower slower”. Can he die while running? From running too much? “Nah”, he thought “this isn’t how it ends” “I get to decide that. Atleast that decision’s mine”. This reminded him of the city-half marathon he ran last year. It was a charity event for an orphanage. “Is that all I’ve given to this world?” “I didn’t even complete that race”. Just then he saw a familiar face in front of him. She was picking up a nickel from the road. Just when she stood up and in the split second they saw each other, her eyes widened, she recognized him. “Lucky girl, found a nickel on road” but then it hit him. He remembered who she was. She was the girl he gave a ride a few months back. Now the whole night came flashing back to him. He was on the road to his way back home when he saw a girl waving hands at the passing cars. He didn’t want to stop for her. Afterall good samaritans are statistically more prone to being robbed. But he wasn’t moving at a lethal speed so she literally threw herself infront of his car. “You want to die here, girl?”, he screamed from the inside of his car. “Please, please, my brother, my brother” and pointed at a person seemingly collapsed nearby. He stopped his engine and came out to see what it was all about. This was now officially a disaster according to him. He left himself so vulnerable, anything can happen now. These two can very well threaten him and run away with his money and car or even worse sedate him and take him for selling his organs. He got closer to this person on the side of the road. The suspiciously trembling gentleman on the road was hardly breathing and shaking violently as if having a seizure. “Now what to do?”, he wondered. “As if I have a choice now”. He dragged him to his car and took the girl and her brother to the nearest hospital. On their way the girl explained how both their phone’s network was ineffectual. “Bloody Vodafone”, he mumbled. “What?”, she asked. “Oh nothing, nothing”. After a while the doctor told them it was an allergic reaction. “He could’ve died. You brought him here in time. He almost had a stroke”, the doc explained. “Oh yes. My brother’s allergic to peanuts and he bought a chocolate bar from a shop on our way. Gosh! I must’ve known, I’m so stupid”, the girl cried. “Yup, that you are dear” “what?”, she said again (he wondered if that’s all she knows of the English language). “Had I not been there at the right time, you’d have become the sole heir to your parents’ inheritance”. “No, we’ll still be rich. I’ll sue the chocolate company for not explicitly mentioning that they use nuts as an ingredient”, she said. (This girl certainly knows more, he wondered) “I feel like I should go now and leave you with your sinister plans” "what?", she said again and he left her at the hospital and rushed back to his car and headed straight for home (at moderate speed ofcourse).

“I saved that boy’s life that day. Must mean something” “nah, I guess. I didn’t do much” “she forced me to help her”. Now he forgot about his stomach ache and kept running with newfound vigour. Now his destination was close. He was getting there. He started without thinking about one but on his way he had made his mind about the river in the outskirts of the city. “Yup, that’s where I’ll die. With the countless fish I’ll lay myself to sleep as well”. The river had been at the centre of various controversies over the years. Many people used to commit suicide there during the early 80’s. Some say the spirit of old Maggi still lurks in the river in the form of a big angler fish. Maggi was allegedly thrown into the river by her elder sister over a petty feud. Presently the river was seeing many staged protests against out-city factories dumping toxic waste in it causing the fish to mutate. The river was a symbol of rampant pollution and widespread environmental neglect all over the city with big corporations completely shunning away from all responsibilities. “With my death maybe they’ll see how important conserving environment is”. Bereft of his logic, he continued running.

As his cynicism took over, came the time for him to recall every sinful deed he’d done in his life. “Nonsense, I can’t possibly remember each day of my life”. Then it hit him. How wrong had he been all his life. How carelessly he lived without giving a thought to the happiness of others. All mistakes he ever made, came hitting him like nails in his head. The time when he sneaked booze in his school dormitory or everytime when he smoked with his friends. Or how he kept hitting on women, getting into pointless relationships just for sport. Never caring about anyone’s feelings. Even after his marriage he almost cheated on his wife once. Or how he backstabbed most of his colleagues to get his way in the company he worked for. Everybody hated him. And all for what? Increment, bonus, bigger office? “Was that it? Is that why this illness is inflicted upon me? This is my retribution. I am a sinner.”, he thought to himself as he started to wonder about the beginning of this whole ordeal.

Last week he collapsed while mowing his lawn. The reports came back this afternoon. He was diagnosed with Thymoma, a malignant tumour in his thymus, a cancer. Just when he was returning from the hospital, utterly devastated, barely holding himself together, he snapped. His fingers weren’t steady on the wheel, one of his legs started shaking uncontrollably. Profusely sweating all over, he lost faith in his sight. Too many thoughts burst in his mind at once. He felt like his limbs are being pulled apart in different directions. His mind felt like paste. He started having trouble breathing, he felt suffocated. He opened the door of his car then just ran away from it all as fast as he could.

“We’ll start chemotherapy from next week”, he remembered the doctor’s words. “why? What’s the purpose of it all? With only few months left to live why should I waste my time in chemo? Even if it succeeds, how much time will I borrow from death? And how many people even survive? I’m not gonna fight this. I had it coming. I deserve this. I have nothing left to live for. My life is worthless. I’m just another disappointment. I couldn’t do anything with my life. In all these years I merely scrapped my way through the world. No one will remember me. No one would’ve remembered me anyway. I’ve always disappointed people. My family, my friends, anyone who ever made the mistake of depending on me. I have no place in the world. I deserve to die, alone. Away from anyone who can recognize my corpse. This is the penance for my self-centredness.”, as he was about to burst in tears in the middle of the road he tripped and fell, rather badly.

“Oh just great! A broken finger now. Now I’ll get a fiberglass cast just like my daughter” “well how does it matter, I’m about to die anyway”. “Wait! My daughter!”, now he couldn’t control his emotions anymore and started crying. The memories of his daughter evoked something from deep within him. Now he really wasn’t feeling like himself. “How will she feel?” “She’ll cry for sure but few years and she’ll understand”. “Her mother will help her around it”. “She’s so little. I remember how she first fell from her bicycle when I was teaching her how to ride. When she fell, it looked like a big ball of wool rolling on the road. I can’t forget her face when I left her to the school for the first time. All the kids were crying. I was crying. She wasn’t. When I left she waved her hand at me and I still can’t describe how it felt” “her fractured hand should heal by next week” “I need to take her to the doctor again. Oh I remember now, day after tomorrow I’m needed at her school for the parent’s meet”. “how? How gaawwwdd?” “how can I just turn my back on all this?” “how can I die now. My cancer will kill me for sure. Who’ll do these things then?” “if I go back home, what’ll I tell my family? That they won’t see me around after a few weeks” “it’ll cause such a chaos in the lives of everyone connected to me” “no I can’t go back” “I’ve ran so far. My river’s not too far now. What’s far is my life, my family and my daughter.”

He felt a spear go through his heart. Like he’d just been stabbed multiple times. There he was. In the night, on the road, tired from all the running, still undecided. The night turned red in his mind now. He was so frustrated and tired he couldn’t think straight. He felt being pulled. Standing on a thousand corpses, everyone he’d ever met, pulling him down with their bloody fingers, tearing his soul apart. He was unable to move, unable to see anything, helpless. A person trapped in his own mind. The victim of a cataclysm of his own making. A big blue ocean appeared suddenly in front of his eyes. It was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen in his life. The water was shining unlike anything in the mortal world. There was no end to this heart wrenching sight. The endless ocean. That’s what he wanted. That’s what he needed. An ocean to consume him and everything in him. All his troubles, all his anxiety, all his pain. “Let me go! Let me go”, he cried. “Going into it once and all my problems will be over.” But the dead didn’t leave him. He wasn’t going ahead or anywhere but down. Sinking deeper and deeper into the abyss. The sight of the ocean growing smaller and smaller with each of his cries and very soon vanished completely. One last harrowing scream and then into oblivion he saw nothing but darkness. By the time he came back to his senses, he felt all of his thoughts to be extinct. Everything just gone. Like he was hollow inside. No feelings, no pressure, no worries. A state of true serenity. “We can’t stop the inevitable I guess”, he thought and chose to be succumbed to the temptation of a few more days of pointless life and a few more days with his daughter and turned back. There, there returned the broken man. A man who couldn’t even decide to die. 

One night, Zhuangzi dreamed that he was a carefree butterfly, flying happily. After he woke up, he wondered how he could determine whether he was Zhuangzi who had just finished dreaming he was a butterfly, or a butterfly who had just started dreaming he was Zhuangzi. If asking oneself "Am I dreaming?" in a dream proves that one is, what does it prove in waking life?

Rashomon Effect

Part-I

“I don’t understand it”, cried the poor cobbler. The wind rustled through, heavy rain pouring all over. “This must be a mistake”, “It has to be”, the monk mumbled. Thunder blazed and the rain continued. The two men were sheltered in the decrepit, old lounge. In its time it must have been a famous hotel by the road for travellers and tourists who passed by this road to visit the nearby mountain but now it was reduced to nothing but few pillars, torn down roofs with water running through and walls of wood not holding by much. Since the new road opened with a shorter passage to the mountain, people slowly stopped going by this road and due to lack of business activity the owner ultimately abandoned this building and left. This was Rashomon- The corpse of a resort which was now sheltering these two stray men from the storm. Then came running another man seemingly to find a hideaway from the rain. “Ah! Looks like the rain isn’t going to stop anytime soon”, the man said. “I don’t understand it”, “I don’t understand it”, kept on saying the cobbler. “Aye baka, what are you crying about?”, asked the man. “I don’t understand it, it doesn’t make sense” “what don’t you understand? Tell me maybe I can help”. “Oh no, no one can. It’s us the humans, what have we done?”, the monk intervened. “See we have a very wise and enlightened man among us” “come on both of us can surely help you”, the man said. “It is about a story. A story no one has ever heard before. A story of lies. A story of murder.”, said the monk. “Then it shouldn’t be such a surprise. Murders happen all the time here. You know they bombed an entire town not too far away from here, you know how many died there?” “But this is different. I’ve been through wars. I’ve seen assassinations, witnessed countless heinous crimes but this one is different. How can the humans become like this? I have lost faith in humanity. ”, replied the monk to the man. “Oh begin already, I want to hear this extraordinary story of yours”.

The monk went on, “A human’s existence on this planet is limited. In the afterlife he has to pay for all the crimes he has done in this life and in the past lives. He must pay for his crimes only then he will be free of this cycle of life and death, of hate and suffering, or greed and malevolence. Yet in his lifetime, humans commit all kinds of sins, lives his life without sincerity or devotion for God. Humans have become so self-centred, the human soul has decayed…” “oh stop with the preaching.” , interrupted the man. ”I did not come here for a preaching session. It was just this rain so I thought it might be good to kill time by hearing your story. Tell me the story, only the story.”

“Yesterday when I was walking to the monastery after a preaching session at an old man’s home who used to be a postmaster and just retired from 40 long years of service. He called me to hold a sermon with his family members on the occasion of his retirement and new life.” “oh no not another religious propaganda”, said the man. The monk looked at the man with sharp eyes, gesturing that he’s coming to the point. “when I was returning from there, on my way, I saw a man and a child in a car, race past me. I could not get a clear view but I saw the child was tied with a rope to the seat and his mouth was taped. I tried to follow them but they were too fast but I noted the car’s number with which the police tracked that person down and caught him. We were called in to testify this morning.” “I, I was there”, murmured the cobbler. “It was in the evening, in a ditch few kilometres away from the road where they maybe passed the monk. That ditch is a desert like landmass through which only a single solitary road passes by. There is no other settlement or even a street light around there. I was dragging my cycle home from my shop where I mend shoes. That day I received a special order from a regular customer to replace the heel and outsole of a pair of shoes which he needed the next morning for a job interview. So I decided to take them home. There after walking a few minutes into the ditch, I saw a red car crashed on the right side of the road, there was still smoke coming out of the bonnet. Somehow it crashed with the single elephant tree there was in that ditch, which even after five years of going from that way, I never really paid attention to. There was no one in the car, just a wallet in the back seat. There was a rope lying there and a few feet away from the car there was a corpse of a man. I had never seen a dead body before in my life. I screamed and ran away from it as quickly as possible. I was so terrified, I even dropped the shoes I was carrying in the bag when I grabbed my bicycle and headed towards the nearest police station.” “So that’s it? Who was that man? Who killed him? What happened to the kid?”, said the man. The monk took over, “then we saw the whole thing unfold at the trial. The dead man was allegedly the kidnapper but there was another person involved except the kid. They caught him through a call from a doctor’s clinic nearby, who told the police that a suspicious looking man was waiting there with a gunshot wound and arrested him. What happened after at the trial is still unbelievable. It was so horrible, my heart refuses to believe that. “What? What did he say? Did he admit it?”, again asked the man. “He and the kid both were present at the trial. The kid ran away and collapsed near our monastery. We reported about him to the police. We heard both their testimonies and it doesn't make sense. Its baffling really. They all gave different accounts of what happened. All were repugnant, crying aloud the vile nature of humanity. It was hard believing anything after that. My faith is shaken …...”

"This time the story is inspired from Akira Kurosawa's masterful morality tale- Rashomon"

The Secret of the Suspected Suicide of Susceptible Sage Samrat by Serpent Bite Sickness (Part-2)

Over the years his audience grew to include some important persons like the sarpanch (who became a sarpanch after receiving advice from the Guru), the local lawyer, the retired subedar saab, the employed and unemployed countrymen.

Everything was going nice for Samrat. He just sat under a tree everyday, the passersby’s and regular visitors gave him things to eat, clothing and enough money to meet his needs. His home was the local dharamshala which would hold in house preaching sessions in winters. One such wintry day in November, it wasn’t too cold and sun was shining outside so he decided to sit under the tree. He was just meditating there when a snake appeared from somewhere around the tree and bit him on the right foot. The bright winter morning became the last day for the sage and died. Some people noticed the unconscious body of Samrat and took him to the hospital. The doctor’s declared him dead on arrival with the cause of death being snake bite, most likely by a Russell’s Viper. Then his devotees took him to the local vaidya( herbal medicine practitioner) who also declared him poisoned. Then the devotees took the corpse to the local Shiva temple believing lord shiva would grant him life once again. The priest told the people to leave him in the room built behind the temple wrapped in the holy cloth.

The whole village went into mourning. People who didn’t even know him cried regretting not being able to meet such a divine soul. Just after hours of mourning, speculation started on how to cremate him and who would cremate him. Someone raised a voice while crying saying,” the holy guru isn’t dead. He’s still among us. We should wait”. This was the sentence that threw people into real confusion. Some said he’s in deep meditation and could wake up any minute. Some said his soul has gone into the other world and must return in due time. All in all, the conclusion came out to not bury or burn him. His body should be preserved as it is now for sooner or later he will wake up.

As ridiculous as this sounded to me, some reporter caught this story from somewhere and publicized the whole affair. In no time, the village lit up with a festival like scenario. A media circus bombarded the village folk with questions those peasants never even imagined. But as new thoughts kept on coming to them, the mystery became more tangled with unnecessary attention it was getting. Now people wondered, “was that snake a messenger of lord shiva who called the sage to meet him?”, “did our beloved saint died due to his own will”, “what was he doing outdoors in such cold? Where did the snake come from and bit only him? Did he know the snake’s coming?” "Did someone conspired to kill him" "Who would harm such a godly figure" "But then affable people have the most envious foes"

Maybe I was the only one who didn’t miss him. I was maybe the only person aware of the fact that his presence didn’t make any difference nor does his absence. The only thing people miss is the figure they could believe in. Well this show went on for a whole month and plagued the minds of all the folks until another old fellow who claimed to be his most devoted loyalist claimed that he’d seen Samrat in his dream. He told the people that he received word to bury him and create a Samadhi beside the tree where he sat and has commanded him to carry on the Jan-Seva as he’s leaving part of his divinity to him.

Now after a few days, the media cleared off and the regular lot returned to seek advice from a wise saint. One can say things went back to normal. Although this time I knew the backstory of this incarnation of Samrat. The man was in his late forties, I can’t recall his name Mahesh or maybe Ravi but I knew him well as a regular face. His sob story was the talk of the town a few years back. He sold most of his land to a real estate mogul and lived off very comfortably for years to come. But during this time he developed a drinking habit and earned the title of the local drunk. Soon the money got used up and he struggled to even earn enough for his day to day expenses as there was no irrigable land left. He worked as a daily wage labourer and spent most of his income on his habit. He worked when he pleased and spent the rest of the time being passed out on the streets. Sometime later an NGO picked him up and straightened him out in about eight months.

Now as he was supposedly clean of his alcohol addiction, he worked as a helper in other people’s farms. Sometime around this he discovered the Sage Samrat and became his devotee and eventually the self-proclaimed heir.

Now the folks have their saint back, I wonder how would he advise his subjects.. Will he continue to play it safe or we’ll see some differences around. Well it doesn’t matter now, I won’t be around to see them. Yes, you read right. This is my last diary entry. From now on, I am going as well on my own journey in search of the  ‘Actual Truth’.

-The humble local freelance journalist, Govind P. Waagle

The Secret of the Suspected Suicide of Susceptible Sage Samrat by Serpent Bite Sickness (Part-1)

Once upon a time, in the village of Girishanagar there lived a humble sage who went by the name of Samrat. Rumour had it that he was the only son of a very wealthy businessman but after his father’s death, he gave away all he inherited to a charity and went on to meditate in the woods in search of the actual truth. After he attained the holy knowledge, he went on a journey to spread this among other people. This story was so similar to Lord Budhha that it led some to assume that he might be his incarnation. I wondered if he was, then why did he do everything all over again?

Anyway, that’s just the words in the wind. On his path to god he stumbled upon a small village where I and some not so humble villagers resided. Although his influence over the villagers was strong, I somehow remained immune to his divinity. Even though I didn’t like him, I was not much concerned about his involvement in the village affairs. He was a smart man who had a way with words, I can tell you that. And he also kept his safety above everything else. So when some poor soul in dire need of counsel came to him, he chose the safest way. He would listen to the problems, explain about them in detail, tell both pros and cons and would just say, “the answer to your problem lies within you”. This way he never actually told anyone to do anything which cleared him of all the blame. I wondered when the poor villagers will understand that their town and problems will remain exactly the same even without him.

 That aside, I once asked him about the story of his origin and didn’t get anything solid. I probably would’ve known this, a person as cautious as him wouldn’t reveal anything which might connect him to the same ground we all walked. In his voice, he said, “I don’t know who I am. About 10 years ago I woke up in a government hospital with all my memories gone. I can’t remember a thing about my past and since then I’m travelling to wherever life takes me.”

Well he knew I didn’t attend his sermons, nor I ever came for advice to him so it was natural for him to believe that I don’t believe in him. That would be the reason he didn’t include any supernatural intervention in the story he told me. Yet I didn’t believe this story either. My best guess was that he was a vagabond with no home, no family nor any source of income so he would stray his time away in the streets. Over time, his beard grew bigger before he realized he could capitalize this new look with a few famous quotes. And this way he turned into the revered sage that he is today.

 To know the fate of our beloved sage, read the next part.....

The Theft- Part III (Volume 2)

 “Now, now I don’t think you should be surprised. Holding a gun does not make you invincible you see. As for my fancy tricks, these are some things I picked up in the army”. “I’ve fired three, you fired one now how many are left Mr. Accountant?” “Help! Somebody Help!”, Stu screamed. Piper heard these noises regained some of his senses but couldn’t scream for help. That kick in the jaw made him bite his tongue too severely. “Scream all you want, nobody’s gonna come and help you at this place and at this hour. In fact, that's the reason you chose this place, wasn’t it?” Stu suddenly realised his error and how he chose the perfect place for their grave. But how could he know all this? And how could he turned this way as they’ve been following him about a week now. Everyday he used to go into the same building, come out of the same building. Always alone. Considering his clothes and home, he should be making a decent enough living with just enough to spare everyday. They deduced he was living alone, no girl no family as such. All this while lying on the ground like a fish out of water, Piper saw a file in front of him. It was among the documents that fell out when they emptied Joe’s bag. Once again he couldn’t believe his eyes. The file had pages with the photographs of the two of them and some information he couldn’t clearly read but now it was obvious this guy was up to something. He wasn’t just another random victim. And at this moment thinking about their past actions and watching over Joe and his routine, it suddenly hit Stu, a revelation.

Where are the car keys? When they both took his belongings they didn’t snatched a key chain of any sort. He wasn’t carrying one. But then why? Why was he in the parking lot without his car keys? Now it was clear to the thugs that this wasn’t a robbery, at least not as they wanted it to be. It was a trap, a carefully laid out trap. And we foolishly walked right into it. Piper was almost passed out, Stu was on his knees, the gun now in between his eyes, held by Joe who was once an humble office worker now embodied reaper of death himself. “leave me please, please don’t kill me, I beg you, please just take everything back, we never meant to harm you, we’re sorry, we won’t steal from anyone ever, police, police call the police please”, Stu mumbled words, pleading to save their lives. Don’t be so dramatic now. It’s my turn. We’ve plenty of time and no one will disturb us here. So where were we? Yes, a little chat. You know I always love good company. People who can patiently listen. And don’t gossip about anything you tell them. It’s hard to find such trustworthy audience. Now do you promise not to tell anyone? Stu nodded. Let’s start from the beginning. There was this beautiful young maiden who gave birth to a fairly strong baby boy. Oh wait, maybe that just too back, you folks won’t be interested in that far backstory. So let’s just start from when I got to know you. You see my mother died at an early age and my father disappeared so these very fine folks raised me as their own child. They even gave me their surname and let me keep my mother’s name so folks like you can call me Joe Claire Acorn. They fed me, educated me and helped me all they could till I got recruited in the arm forces. But then I ran away, it was too disciplined a life for me. I wasn’t cut out for taking orders. Few odd jobs here and there as a security guard or a private eye and such. But then even the poverty didn’t suit me. So I became what an ambitious man with my skill set can become- A professional magician. Except I made people disappear so they’d never return to tease my clients. 

I think now you’re getting the wind of it. See you’ve upset many people. Many of them are rich. And some of them happen to know me. It was only a matter of time before someone reached out to me. And how could I deny, especially you boys. You had me curious the moment I saw your partners face. You see sometime in the past he was wanted for allegedly killing his wife with a shovel in front of her child. People feared the trauma might spoil the child. Even to the extent that the child may become a homicidal maniac. ”Do I look like a homicidal maniac to you?”. Stu shook his head sideways. Nah, you’re right. I might be a little funny in the head but see my choice of career. Its completely apt to my interests. “what you say? Eh dad? Piper! Wake up Piper!”. Well that’s if you’re my dad, are you? It doesn’t matter now. No hard feelings man. We got along just fine in the end. And that's all that really matter. Piper died of a heart attack due to the shock he suffered when the bag caught his eye and was marked in bold letters-“Belongs to Joe Claire Acorn”. Now Joe got close as he suspected that Piper might be dead already. “What do you think Stu? Is he dead? I guess there’s only one way to be sure.”, said Joe as he shot Piper in the eye. “holy god! Man….you…you..killed him….he’s dead”, exclaimed Stu. “Help! somebody help please!” another attempt in vain. Oh don’t be such a drama queen. Stu fell silent. Eyes widened. He hoped he’d fainted so at least it’ll be painless. You see what a fateful night that was. One night when we all met. The situation seems more fitting rather now. There was one corpse then and one corpse now.

I want to tell you something. Don’t feel bad about it but you have to die now. And believe me, I am killing you only because I need to. Remember death comes to us all, don’t fear it. It follows you every day of your life waiting for your luck to run out and catch you in its tender arms. When you finally come face to face with it, you must embrace it. It was your true friend. Always by your side. In life you were poor, you were rich. You were a man, you were a woman. You loved someone, they loved you back. You hated someone, they hated you. You got help and you aided another life. You were a criminal, you were a friend. You were free, you were caged, you were young , you were aged. But now nothing matters. No man is immortal, in death we’re all equal. You will remain alive in my memory and that’s all that matters. People die but memories remain. Joe had a knack for digressing from the task at hand and go all out philosophical in a minute. By the time this sermon was over, Stu was almost unconscious. Hardly hearing a word. “Wakey! Wakey! You can’t die as yet. Just a few bruises, some loose tendons and only three bullets, except that you’re the picture of health”, said Joe kneeling down and shaking Stu by his shoulders.

“Just let me go!!!!!”, Joe screamed with all his remaining strength

“oh come on now, this story’s extended too much already” laughingly said Joe and shot him right in the head, between the eyes. “Just so you know, it was nothing personal. All in the line of duty”

Joe picked up his things, including the weapons of crime to carefully destroy them later and also the watch which he liked so much. (the last owner didn’t mind Joe taking it after he got his arm back). Although he still heard the droplets, noise indicated something thicker than water but he didn’t wonder much about and exited the parking lot.

Joe was long gone. Faded into the darkness of the night outside. Rain had stopped.

(looking at the corpses of Stu and Piper)”Looks like I’m finally gonna have some company down here”, said the Guard with the open wound on his hand.

The author thinks he should seriously stop hanging around like hobos in strange places.

The Theft Part III (Volume 1)

Just don’t kill me. Please don’t kill me. I don’t want to die. Here, take everything. “Quit your mumbling!”, Stu shouted. In the next few seconds, things were crumbled, pockets were emptied, pendants and rings were snatched. Even the slightest noises echoed in the parking. Joe had no jewellery, some important client documents which were of no value to the two robbers except the wallet which appeared to be quite swollen. Everything was going smoothly despite the fact that it was a robbery attempt in the middle of the night. No one was hurt, guns were pointed in places other than Joe’s head. As they snatched the briefcase, those no value documents and some photographs fell out. Not much heed was paid to them. Now the wallet was opened, Rs. 5000 in 500 rupee notes. Joe realised that it wasn’t such a nice idea to visit the ATM today. Generally he carried his debit card and a little change to give to beggars and tip the waiters (and have a little boy-ishy fun once in a while). Stu started counting the money. Piper stared into the eyes of Joe as he’s trying to remember where he’d seen that face. Maybe someone he robbed before. They were in no hurry to leave the place. After all they’d be going to just another desolate and almost as boring a place after this and frankly their shed was just two blocks away. They’d moved into this area recently and Joe was the first victim so it was quite impossible Piper had seen that face but he was having a hard time believing this. He contemplated about how he should go on about this. ”I’m not asking a girl out”, Piper said to himself. So after concluding that putting more stress may fry his brain, he just let out ,” Do I know you boy?”. Stu almost completed counting the money and it took him a little while because he could not help but admire the watch he just snatched. “An actual treasure. What would that imbecile know of this magnificent creation of man?” Stu was willing to trade all of his share of the loot just for this watch. And why wouldn’t he? It was the dazzling white dial inside a glowing circle of rose gold that is Patek Philippe’s 175th-anniversary Grandmaster Chime. Such a timepiece was a luxury he doubted how could their victim afford. It was far fetched even for the owner of this building. Such exquisite case, dials, movement, crown and bezels. All so much, it was hard to believe human hands can craft such perfection with complete absence of sharpness anywhere, truly a work of art. A limited edition gem. Stu knew all this to the very last detail. Back when he was an accountant, he used to wish for a timepiece like this but he knew it was impossible to earn enough ever. It wasn’t just a watch, it was a dream. An unfulfilled dream only till now. He got this watch when he least expected it. He almost found it to be an insult for such a watch to be acquired by theft. What was even harder for him to believe was how could Joe own it. It had to be a gift, it had to be. Or maybe our poor victim might just not be as innocent as they think him to be. Here, he felt satisfied if they’re stealing from an undeserving thief. Although he had to know. Just as then, Piper asked him,” have we seen this chap somewhere?”. After this sentence was the first time when Stu actually noticed the face of the poor victim. Not that he recognised him but there was something about him, the face wasn’t completely new. Now, what really surprised both of them now was the man’s lips. A smile. Joe was grinning, pulled his head up and the smile grew with it. The two men were now confused. Joe’s smile was growing bigger bigger and bigger. Finally he burst into laugh. Maniacally in front of the robbers, he laughed for a while. “poor lad lost his mind I suppose”, said Piper. “c’mon man its just 5000, you can very well earn them again”. Now slowly Joe’s laugh faded, he wiped off a tear from one of the eyes and still kept on smiling while he said,” Just 5000? My dear fellas, its not just 5000”. Joe continued,” if I count you both then I think it should add up to 10,00,000.” The two thieves were completely lost by this time. Stu again pointed his gun at him hurriedly, right between the eyes. “you see the irony here, the victim is holding the gun. There is very little purpose of the weapon you’re holding now. It’s almost useless now and sincerely sir what’s a weapon if it loses its sole purpose? If you keep holding that gun that way, I suspect you’ll only end up hurting yourself Mr. Johnson.” Stu was transfixed,”No more puzzles you worm, now shut up and tell me how you know my name?” Piper was just as shocked by the sudden surge of boldness in their typical clerk. He was no less shocked as even working 5 years with Stu he wasn’t aware of his identity beyond the name he told. Now Piper wondered more deeply about where he’d seen that face. Who was he? An old enemy perhaps. But who? Sure both of them hadn’t been ideal members of the society till now but they didn’t remember any office worker who’d hold a grudge against them. “perhaps you could talk some sense into him Mr. Reynolds”, Piper Reynolds’ eyes widened. “I see you’ve been holding that stick for quite some time now, put it down and let’s all have a friendly chat”. Just then Piper swinged his big rod towards him, supposedly to hit him in the head to make him unconscious. But here Mr. Clerk put his skills to use and showed the thugs what they’re dealing with. He ducked down and up in an instant, frighteningly close to Piper, punched in the side of his ribs, hard enough to break. Snatched the rod, hit him with it in the stomach then on the toes and finally a kick to his jaw to drop him on the ground face up. All in a split second. Stu fired a shot in panic without properly aiming at Joe. Joe hit his elbow with rod, then the fingers and shifted the rod to his left arm and snatched the gun with the right. Fired three rounds, two in the legs and one to the left arm. Joe dropped the rod, Stu can’t feel his right arm, Piper is lying on the ground half conscious.

Keep on reading to the second and the final volume. There lies the end. And below is the customary complement clip.

The Theft- Second Part

The Theft (Part II)

23 July 1999, exactly 15 years ago from this day, a little boy’s mother was murdered in cold blood. Rain pouring all over. Similarly cold night. The boy was sleeping in his bed. 10 year old little lad, still suffering from the consequences of a tiny bladder. He was often teased about this fact, in the school and at the home. He felt embarrassed every time he found his mom mention it to anyone. They’d always say,” isn’t he too old to pee in his bed” or “you should seek a doctor, maybe he’ll prescribe something”. His mom always laughed it off. She knew he’ll just outgrow it.

That night was different, this time the boy had woken up in time and was delighted about the fact that his bed wasn’t wet but he heard some kind of noise which frightened him. Still he had to answer nature’s call. The boy hurriedly stood up from his bed. Walking in darkness wasn’t his strong suit either, so he slowly walked to the door, using the light from beneath the door as a beacon. There, he reached the door, pulled the handle down and the door slid itself outside because of yesterday’s oiling. It was the same reason behind it being so noiseless otherwise the creaking sound in the middle of the night would’ve woke up the neighbours. The earlier vague sounds now became clear. It was a woman, his mother yelling at someone.

The voices scared the boy, but he had to pass the living room in order to get to the other side of the house. So he started walking downstairs. Very slowly, silently. Just when he reached around the wall, a glass smashed. The boy froze right where he was. He was at the bottom of the staircase, just behind a wall from where he could see the corner of the living room and there stood his mum arguing with the tall man. There was water all over the floor. She was cornered, looking terrified as almost about to cry. The little boy had never seen his mom crying or scared. He could not see the man’s face as he was facing towards his mom. “No, I don’t want to see you, not ever again. Go away!”, she said. The man punched the wall, clearly agitated. But went away silently, nicely closing the door on his way out.

Claire took a deep breath. She was relieved at last. Now her eyes fell upon the little kid behind the wall. “Go back to your room, boy” she said firmly. “I just wanted to go to the toilet”, he replied. “Hurry up and go back to sleep, there’s school tomorrow”, she said. Just when the boy was about to move his little feet, the door opened suddenly with a loud thud and that tall man returned with a shovel held up high in his hands. Hit Claire on the back of her head, she fell on the floor but he was still angry so he kept on hitting her head. Just there, right in front of the boy, he bludgeoned his mother to death. When he finished, he threw the shovel there, gave the boy a dreaded look and went away again nicely closing the door on his way out.

The boy just stood there, his mind went blank for a while there before he started crying. Hearing all the noises, the neighbours came running and Mrs. Acorn screamed at the top of her voice before fainting as she gazed upon Claire’s body.

The boy remembers it all to this very day. After 15 years, just like it was last night. He remembers Mr. Acorn running and picking him up, trying to calm him. Calling the emergency number for reporting a homicide and an ambulance for his unconscious wife. The sirens after the local police arriving. The boy couldn’t help but notice a bald guy in one of the police cars but he wasn’t the one who killed Claire. The good policeman Mr. Moe with a big hairy moustache trying to get an idea of what happened here from the 10 year old, traumatised and unfortunate witness who wished it all to be just a nightmare. Although everyday was a nightmare after this incident. And the boy may not think of that night all the time now but he never forgot the pain. The horror still lingers in his heart. The fear which later turned to hatred and now, all those years later, he yearns for revenge.

It was a regular day at the Hooper and Looper accounting firm. People working with the same dedication as always. Everything normal till the office attendant came to Stewart’s cubicle. Stewart Johnson ‘Stu’ as his mama and friends called him. He was told to meet the manager as soon as possible. “You fraud”, exclaimed the manager as soon as he saw Stu. The manager accused him of embezzlement and stealing their clients’ money. “It was not me”, Stu cried. “I know money’s missing and I know it was you!”, the manager yelled. Stu’s pleading and arguing was doing no good to the situation. The manager was convinced that it was Stu who stole the money. Stu knew that his suspicion was also justified as his father was really sick recently and he asked the manager for an advance but even that wasn’t enough to get him the treatment he needed. How could he convince the manager that his estranged cousin won it big at gambling, gave a loan to Stu and died of drug overdose the week after. Stu was the obvious suspect. The manager gave him two options- to confess and resign or he would call the police. Stu had no choice. He knew the police won’t believe him either and he’ll end up in jail. So, he chose to confess to a crime he did not commit and promised to resign the day after. To Stu’s utter despair, this was exactly what the manager expected. That sly crook recorded the whole conversation and called the police immediately after Stu left his office. The police came and arrested Stu in front of his colleagues and dragged him to the police vehicle. “Hire a good lawyer”, officer Moe told Stu in a condescending voice.

They were on their way to the police station when there was a call on the radio asking anyone in the area to immediately report to a crime scene- homicide, female, mid-thirties, bludgeoned to death.

Instead of solving the mysteries, this part created some of its own.Who was this kid? Will he avenge his mother? And most of all- the fate of Joe? All of this will be sorted out in the next and final part of the series.

Till then, enjoy this video:-

1st Short Story- The Theft (Part I)

This time you've got yourselves a short story and as an added bonus- a great short film 'Steadfast Stanley' too.

Although I like including numerous characters with rich back-story and lots of details but I'll be limiting myself due to the confinements of a short story. So, put your reading glasses on, here it begins-----

The Theft (part-I)

It was night time. Almost past midnight. Joe was walking home. The way was eerie. He exited his office building and just reached the parking lot. There were cars all around. With the big office came the trouble of having a really large parking lot, that too underground where the slightest noise echoed like on solitary mountain peaks. Maybe it was the whimsy of the architect to annoy Joe. Seemingly, Joe was the only person there. Or as he wondered while strolling through the modern marvel of complete blandness. Every wall was the same as the one he passed before when he again wondered, “did they even employ an architect to think this thing through or just made walls as they were in the building beside this one”. The emptiness reminded him he was supposed to cross a guard on his way, but then almost no-one had ever seen him around. Although there were rumours of a 100 year old corpse with an injured hand but Joe knew his colleagues were just trying to make fun of an old man. After 12 hours a day work, who knows what story a tired mind of an office worker can conjure up. Just then, he thought he heard footsteps.

Stu and Piper were there. Carefully following his every move.  Joe almost had no idea of the presence of his unknown companions. He kept on moving at a swift pace. The night was windy. They could hear strong breezes on the outside. It was a hot day of July yet the night was unusually cold. Sounds of water droplets echoed. Some car’s oil was leaking or maybe a tap on some undiscovered corner on an invisible wall was dropping water drops, just in the right rhythm of Joe’s footsteps. A three-eyed crow or maybe a raven caught Joe’s eye. But disappeared into the same nothingness from whence it came just as quickly it appeared.

Joe was moving. Stu and Piper were moving. Clocks were ticking, except Piper’s. He wasn't wearing one. It used to give him nasty marks on the skin.

Stu and Piper were now moving faster, almost running, as to move past Joe. Their intentions were about to become clear. A shot was fired in the air as they both jumped right in front of Joe. Before he could even have the chance to catch a breath and think about running or something else, Stu pointed a gun at him, right in between his eyes. From the look in the eyes of Stu, Joe understood that he’s used it before and enjoyed killing and will not hesitate in pulling the trigger on the smallest move. Piper was standing right next to Stu on the right with a big unshapely rod in the hand. The rod like the one’s from which you hit a guy and he loses all his memories and lives forever with a short term memory loss. Joe thought about the gun in between his eyes, it was a Smith & Wesson 4500 pistol, thug material.

“Gimme all ya money”, exclaimed Stu.

......what will happen to Joe next? Will they leave him alive? Are they all what they seem? And amidst all this, where is the guard? All these questions will be answered and the curtain will be lifted revealing the truth, in the next part of the story. Very soon..........