Tag: Story Page 1 of 2

(Warning: Contains scenes of drugs and violence)

‘Where is it?’ Juan whispers in his usual creepy manner.

It must be here. It’s dark due to regular power cuts. I have not carried my torch and mobile in accordance with our plan. I run my hands on the base of the kitchen cupboard. ‘You had kept it here before you went to bed, hadn’t you?’

I frown.

He continues teasing, ‘Have you forgotten where you kept it?’

‘No, I haven’t.’

I find it. I smile and grab the knife’s handle. I bring it closer to my lips and run my fingers along its blade. “Ah, here you are,” I say in a low voice, “you Devil’s friend! Where were you hiding?”

‘Why do you have to speak out? What if someone listens? You’ll foil our plan,’ Juan scolds me.

I get angry at him. He says he is psychic and never leaves me. He knows everything about me. When I ask him how, he does not answer. He had once said, ‘Only you can hear me.’ I like him when he suggests what I should do. When he becomes authoritative, like he is now, I absolutely hate him.

‘I’d not be awake at three in the morning if I didn’t know what I’m doing. I don’t want you to command me.’

‘I wasn’t commanding you,’ he says. ‘I was just expressing my concern. You need to be careful. We selected this time to carry out our plan because everyone would be asleep. What’ll happen if they wake up—if they see you’re playing with a knife in the kitchen? Please be careful.’

I am amused. He knows exactly what calms me down. I become a little more cautious as I hide the knife inside my jacket. The house is dark and silent, but I don’t want to stumble upon anyone. If such a thing happens, I don’t want to look suspicious.

I walk out into the dark corridor. Sticking to the wall on my right, I walk eight steps and reach a door.

‘You’re outside her room. Get in.’

I nod and grab the doorknob. “One, two, three… forty-five, forty-six,” counting each second under my breath, I rotate it slowly to the left. Click. The door unlocks at forty-eight. My heart leaps up. I look around. ‘Boy, that was loud,’ Juan whispers. 

I had not expected the door would open with such a big noise. But there is nothing to worry about. Nobody heard it in their sleep.

I grin.

I push the door and look into the room. It is dark except for the faint light coming from far off outside. She is asleep on her bed. She must be sleeping peacefully. Peace, however, is like a guest—never stays for long.

***

I fasten the door, grab a plastic chair resting on the left wall, and put it beside her bed. I dig my hands in the jacket and pull out my collection from the pockets. I look at each object and place them carefully on the bed. The faint light helps me look at them: a handkerchief, ropes, and a knife. Perfect.

‘Yeah,’ my friend whispers, ‘you cannot fail.’

‘I must not fail,’ I say back.

‘I doubt. You didn’t agree to use chloroform. With it, your task would’ve been easier.’

‘That’s why I didn’t use it. I don’t want it easy. I want her to feel the pain I have felt…’

She stirs in her sleep. I quickly grab the handkerchief and pounce upon her. I pin her hands under my knees and immobilise her. I tie the handkerchief around her mouth. Then I fetch the ropes and tie her hands and feet together.

I sit on the plastic chair again. I can’t see her face, but I can listen to her short breaths. I touch her wrinkled forehead. She is sweating. I can feel her tremble. I can feel her fear.

I lean towards her and whisper into her ears, “I wish I could see your face now, old lady.”

‘Tell her why you’re doing this. But be quick,’ Juan says.

***

“You’ve ruined my life,” I tell her in a low voice. “I was carefree and outgoing. I had a decent group of friends. Sujal, Dinesh, and Manoj were always good to me. We bunked schools together to play on the streets and smoke cigarettes on the grounds. We never disturbed anyone, but you, teachers, neighbours, and everyone else called us bad.

“Why did you call us bad?” I whisper into her ears, “You called me bad because I used to steal sometimes. But how dare you call my friends bad? They supported me when I was low and laughed with me when I was happy. They used to do things you or my parents would never do for me.”

Resting my back on the chair, I continue, “You know about eighteen months ago I had been selected for the school football team, right? To register, each player had to deposit five hundred rupees. I seriously wanted to play for my school, but the lack of money was in the way of my dreams. You didn’t have the money and when I asked my parents, they said they would never spend on my sports activities. After all, they just want to earn money. Did you know how dejected I was?

“When I felt that I had lost, my pals gave me a glimpse of hope. They said they would help me raise the money to join the team, and they meant it. By the next morning, they collected the required amount and gave it to me. I don’t see any “badness” in them, and I absolutely hate you calling them bad.

“The interschool football competition went on well for my school. I could not make anyone feel my presence in the team, however. They were probably ignoring me, for I had been the last to register my name in the competition. I was a substitute for Manish—the coach’s nephew, who was not impressive in the field. His uncle was the only reason for his inclusion in the team as a forward. He had scored mere two goals in three matches. If I had spent nearly as much time on the field, I would have scored more. I’m sure.

“When I told you my problems, you suggested talking to the coach. Before the quarterfinal match, I did. Do you know what he said? He said, “You have skills, but you lack stamina.”

“I suggested that if he would let me play at the start, I could score rapidly and we would have an early dominance in the game. When he asked which player I would like to replace, I immediately said, “Manish.”.

“His eyes narrowed. He pointed his finger at me and shouted, “If you say that again, I’LL DROP YOU OFF THE TEAM. He’s the best player we have. Who do you think you are? Because you have scored in easy times, you think you can handle the pressure, huh?” He continued on and on, supporting his beloved nephew.

“Words got stuck in my throat. I felt like crying. I only suggested a possibility to the coach, and he sent me off rudely. I first cursed him and then cursed myself. How could I have been so stupid? Why did I ever think that he would prefer me over his own nephew? I went to the junction where I often met with my friends. There was no one there. I couldn’t keep my tears any longer. When they came, they found me wiping off my tears and asked what had happened. At first, I did not want to speak about any of it. But they wanted to know the truth. So, I told them everything the coach had said.

“Sujal—you know him—the tallest guy among my friends? Well, he asked, “Where do they live?”

“I hesitated, but I had to surrender to their continuous pestering. I gave them the coach’s address. Their expressionless faces hid their intentions, but I felt they would do something wrong. Before they left, I said, “Please don’t do anything that causes trouble.”

“The next day, the coach came up to me. He looked worried. “Manish is hospitalised because of an accident,” he said. “You’ll play as forward in the starting eleven tomorrow.”

“I could not believe my ears. How did he think I could endure longer in that match? I didn’t care. I had a chance to prove myself. And I did it. I practiced hard that day, and the next day I scored a goal early in the first half. I also created three opportunities. In the second half, I scored one more goal and missed a chance before the coach decided to play a defensive game. He took me off. Once outside the field, he patted me on the shoulder and said, “Come with me.”

“He took me some distance away from the rest of the team. I thought he was going to congratulate me on my performance, but he said, “You did it, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t understand what he was saying. I just gave him a questioning glance. He said again, “You got your friends to attack Manish, didn’t you?”

“I was surprised by the accusation. I told him, “I don’t know what has happened to him. You told me earlier that he is in the hospital due to some accident. I know nothing else.”

“Learn your manners, boy. I got a call from my brother. When Manish gained consciousness this noon, he took your name. And because you were insisting on me keeping you in the starting eleven, I have very little doubt that he is lying. You would get a chance if anything happened to him.” He paused for a moment and said, “Now tell me the truth.”

“Excuse me, sir,” I said, “but I haven’t done anything to him.”

“But you asked your friends to beat him up.”

“No, sir, I haven’t seen them again since the day of the quarterfinals.”” In a flash, I remembered that I had given their address to my friends. My heart raced—faster than it had during the game. ‘Did they do anything wrong?’ I felt extremely nervous when that thought came into my mind. The coach saw me trembling and didn’t say another word. He had won. I sat on the player’s bench, burning within.

“The victory in the semi-finals encouraged the team. I don’t remember how I reacted to that situation. While everyone was congratulating me, I had something else on my mind. I had made a mistake—one that I had not committed myself but had still happened because of my wrong decision. I hated myself; I hated my friends.”

***

Grabbing her shoulders and shaking her violently, I say, “Are you happy knowing I had hated them at least once?” I throw her down and smile. “I didn’t hate them for long, though. They had helped me play in the starting eleven. They might have done wrong to Manish, but only for me.”

I stretch my legs, walk a few paces, and say to her, “Do you still want to call them bad, old lady?”

‘I would not if I were her,’ Juan says. I grin and dismiss him.

I sit on the chair and continue, “That evening, when we reached school, the coach informed the team that I was suspended. Everyone was surprised. They all asked the coach what wrong I had done. I didn’t wait to hear what he said. I just slipped off and went to the junction where I had met my best companions three days ago.

“When they saw me, they ran towards me and asked if I played the match well. I don’t know why they had not come to watch the match; I never asked. I said, “I did what I could do today.” I sighed loudly. “But I have been suspended from the team. I can’t play in the final.”

“Sujal quickly apologised. “I spoke out your name by mistake while beating up the boy. You’d not have been suspended if we had been a little careful.”

““It’s all right, Sujal,” I said. “You have done nothing wrong. You did it for me. I can’t be angry with you. I got a chance to play because of you. I can never think ill of you.”

“The boys could not believe I had forgiven them. “We’re friends, aren’t we? And I’m not sad I can’t play the final,” I said.

““Let’s smoke a different stuff today,” Dinesh said and produced a cigarette. He tore it up and threw away the tobacco. As I looked, he took out some green leaves from his pocket and prepared a cigarette. Other boys did the same. I asked them what it was. They said, “Weed.”

“Dinesh passed it to me. I took the weed-stuffed cigarette between my fingers, lit it with a lighter, and took in a puff of smoke. It immediately reached my mind and gave me a pleasing sensation. Everything around me looked beautiful. I felt I was in heaven. My friends turned into angels. I looked at the birds, and I was also flying with them among the clouds. For the first time in my life, I realised that I was not meant to stay on earth but to fly. I was the happiest man alive!”

***

“Knock, knock. Somebody knocked on my heaven’s door that day. Do you know who he is?” I don’t need light to know that she shakes her head. “His name is Juan. He’s talking to me right now. But you can’t hear him.”

‘You shouldn’t have told her about me,’ Juan says.

‘She won’t be alive to tell anyone about you anyway.’

‘But I wanted you to keep my presence a secret.’

‘Who cares?’

“See? I was talking to him.” I pause and think about the words I had chosen to speak. I grin at myself, shake my head, and then say, “Can you even see me in this darkness?”

I pause for a moment and continue, “Darkness. Night. Dream. You dream when you’re asleep. The drugs I took helped me dream with my eyes open. It helped me dream of flying high with the birds and of creating a society of equality. I gained confidence even to rule the world. To make those dreams true, I needed money. My pals had been generous enough to provide weed free of charge, but they had started bringing some new stuff. They said the stuff was expensive and I had to make contributions as well.

“You know how difficult it is to ask for money for my parents. The amount you used to give me was not sufficient. I asked them to help at times, which only left me feeling guilty. “Necessity is the mother of invention,” wise people have said. I sought out a solution to my problems of money and guilt. I started stealing little amounts from my classmates. But that was still less than what was required. Also, I could not steal every day. Otherwise, they would suspect me.

“So I started searching drawers and cupboards at home. I used to discover wads of notes hidden under the bedding, inside coat pockets, and between some clothes. I wondered why my parents had hidden money like that and then hated them even more. Anyway, I had the money that was all needed. I did not bother to listen to any of their dumb explanations. I started making full payment, surprising my friends.

“To support our finances further, we took trips to Pokhara, Dharan, and other major cities. We traded different types of drugs. It was a risky business. We had to evade people like you and my parents. We could never use what we’re supplying. Sometimes we would get caught. Bribing police officers worked most of the time. But if they could not be corrupted, we used political power. Sujal’s brother helped me get out twice. Luckily, on both occasions, I only had weed with me.

“I thought I never left a trace of my drug use. But I was wrong. You noticed carelessly throwing cigarette butts and started following me. You told my parents, and they caught me red-handed last week.”

I whisper into her ears, “How long had you been spying on me, huh? Why did you convince my parents to send me to the rehab? You killed all my dreams; I’m going to kill you now.”

                                                       ***

Juan and I had agreed not to bring a torchlight, but now I wish I had brought one. I want to see in her eyes the fear of death. “Aha!” I exclaim. “You always keep a torch under your pillow.”

I run my hands under her pillow and find it. I focus it on her face. She has closed her eyes to prevent the glare. The wrinkles on her face seem to have increased. She is sweating. A little later, when she opens her eyes, she has tears on them. “Do you want to tell me something before you die?” I ask.

‘Of course she wants to,’ Juan says. ‘But don’t let her scream.’

I pull down the handkerchief from her mouth a little and shut her mouth with my hands. Surprisingly, she does not even try to scream. Her tears fall on her pillow as she sobs. “I didn’t know I had raised a devil,” she says. “You’ve gone crazy. If killing me makes you happy, then just kill me.”

I stuff the handkerchief back into her mouth, but I forget what I should do next. I had never thought that she would beg me to kill her. Juan immediately whispers, ‘That’s exactly what you want. Remember the dream she has tried to steal from you? You must kill her. You’re the Devil.’

‘Am I the Devil?’

‘Yes, you are.’

‘Indeed, I’m the devil!’

I smile, stretch, grab the knife on the bedside table, and take an aim at her heart. She is breathing heavily.    ‘Lub-dub-lub-dub,’ I can hear her heart pounding hard. I remember her calling my friends bad. I recall the day she had busted me and had talked about sending me to rehab. I shut my eyes and stab her. One, two, three,… I lose count. When I’m tired, I stop and look at her. She does not move. She is dead.

Killing her should have made me happy, but I’m not. There is a sort of emptiness. I look at her dead body, not knowing what to do next. ‘Get out and take a shower,’ Juan scared me.

My hands shiver as I open the door. I run towards the bathroom. The door opens all of a sudden, and my uncle’s son comes out and holds his torch at me. He had come here to stay for a few days. He gazes at me, laughs, and says, “Hey, what’ve you been doing? Did you kill the chicken I had brought yesterday? Isn’t it too early?”

He had teased me the other day, saying that I could not even kill a fly. He had then challenged me to kill the fowl he had brought. Juan says, ‘You’ve killed a woman. You’ve won the challenge.’

‘Cock-a-doodle-do,’ the cock he had brought screams on the top of its voice outside.

My cousin looks baffled. “Haven’t you killed it?” He asks. “Then where did all the blood come from?”

He then gasps, pushes me aside, runs down the corridor, and dashes in to her room. He knew we had a strained relationship. My head spins. I shiver. ‘Kill him before he knows you killed her,’ Juan says.

I want to kill him, but I can’t move a muscle. As I stand still in the middle of the dark corridor, he rushes out of the room, points at me, and says, “You killed her?”

Before I say anything, he shouts out, “Oh my God! Uncle, aunt, call the police! Your son’s gone crazy. He killed Grandma!”