Into The Shadows

by Aayush Borulkar

  Into The Shadows

  Aayush Borulkar

  whitefalconpublishing.com

  All rights reserved

  First Edition, 2021

  © Aayush Borulkar, 2021

  Cover design by White Falcon Publishing, 2021

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by means of electronic, mechanical, photocopying or otherwise, without prior written permission from the author.

  The contents of this book have been certified and timestamped on the POA Network blockchain as a permanent proof of existence. Scan the QR code or visit the URL given on the back cover to verify the blockchain certification for this book.

  The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

  Requests for permission should be addressed to aayushborulkar@gmail.com

  Contents

  Acknowledgment

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Acknowledgment

  I would like to start by thanking my mom and dad. Without their confidence and belief, publishing this book would have remained a dream. I will always remain grateful to them for the kind of upbringing they provided me with. I would really like to thank my younger sister who has helped me every step of the way.

  I would also like to thank the team at White Falcon Publishing, who helped me publish the book. Especially Priya Sahu, who guided me smoothly through the publishing process with constant support from her team.

  And lastly, I would like to thank all the people that have been a part of my life till now and had an impact on my life directly or indirectly.

  About the Author

  I am 22 years old, a graduate in Management Studies. This is my second book and my first undertaking at writing fiction. My first book, “When Blob Meets the Ocean”, was a non-conventional self-help book which was published in December of 2019 and is available on all leading e-commerce websites.

  I was always captivated by the beautiful fictional world created by many of the authors that have impacted my life. Authors like Stephen King, George Orwell, Enid Blyton and many more, have moulded my childhood and played a major role in growing my inclination towards writing. As a teenager I used to enjoy writing short stories, be it in school essays or any writing competition. So I believe, all of this cumulated to pave my way in becoming an author. What started off as a lockdown project has now turned into a full-fledged book.

  Hope the story and the premise of this book enthrals you.

  Happy Reading!!

  Chapter 1

  “Sutro se mili jankaari ke anusar, mahshoor TV star Revati Khanna ki maut ke piche aur kisi ka nahi balki usi ke pati ka haath tha. Pehle jo…

  “Could you turn that off, Malini? These media people have to be sued once and for all. They just keep feeding us gibberish, and we happily buy it,” said a man, sipping his whiskey standing near the television.

  “Oh, what happened now, Rishikesh?” Malini asked, getting comfortable on the couch with a glass of wine. “And why would you say that…

  “Given that his wife is an anchor for a news channel,” interrupted Sagrika walking in with a glass of whiskey. “He still thinks that all the news we relay, are always blown out of proportion,” she continued sitting beside Malini.

  “Yes, but it is true, after all. Rai ka pahad banane ke adat tho hai,” he smirked, taking the last sip from the glass.

  “We are only the messengers, my love. We don’t create any news, we only telecast it. That’s all. But if it gets overblown in that process, we are not to be blamed,” explained Sagarika, smiling. As usual Rishikesh did not buy anything that she said.

  Rishikesh and Sagarika had been married for 12 years now but he had never seconded any of Sagarika’s opinion about any news channel’s authenticity. They were an odd couple because, one was a left-wing activist and other was an anchor for a news channel who was pretty inclined towards the right-wing.

  Malini could sense some tension between the two but chose not to interfere as the couple was staring at each other for a while. But then again, this tension between them wasn’t a new thing. They had been married for over a decade now, but they did not have any children because both of them had different priorities when it came to raising a family together. But now, these disagreements were a regular thing, and for such stark opposite personalities to remain married for 12 years was a miracle in itself.

  “Where is Arnav, your writer husband?” asked Rishikesh, abruptly turning his gaze to Malini.

  “Oh, I have no idea. Arnav might be in his study,” she answered.

  “In his study!? Shouldn’t he be with us here, given that it’s your 13th wedding anniversary? And it is almost time to cut the cake,” said Sagarika glancing at her wristwatch.

  “I’ll go and find him,” said Rishikesh seeing a confused look on Malini’s face.

  It was the 13th anniversary of the Sethi’s. Arnav was a budding author with two novels under his belt, and Malini was a Pediatrician. They had a 12-year-old daughter named Sania, who had just completed her 8th grade and was busy with her friends. The whole house was in a state of happy chaos as laughter of the guests echoed in the house of the Sethi’s. Amidst the soft and mellow music in the background, Sania and her friends ran in and out the rooms, further dampening the music due to their commotion. The table was set, and so was the whole mood of the house. The only thing that was missing was…Arnav, the budding author.

  “Sethi Saahab,” said Rishikesh knocking on the half-opened door. “Everyone is waiting for you in the living room. The cake is ready, and so is everybody,” he added, entering the room.

  On entering the room, he saw a stout man sitting on the bed looking out of the window. Rishikesh went up to the bed and stood in front of Arnav, blocking his view.

  “Come on, Arnav. Everyone is waiting. And the mood of the party is just drying up a bit,” he said.

  The Sethi couple had shifted to Mumbai after their marriage, so they didn’t have any relatives in this city. They had to start their lives from scratch to reach where they are right now. But in the process, they did manage to create new bonds. Bonds which were as thick and strong as any blood relations. And one such bond was created between Rishikesh Chokravarty and Arnav Sethi. The two couples had instantly clicked, soon after they met. Slowly and gradually the bond strengthened as one family. Now Arnav could not refuse Rishikesh and stood up sluggishly.

  “Yeah, let’s go,” said Arnav as they walked out of the room.

  As the duo entered the living room, they were welcomed by a crowd with glowing faces. All of them shouted “Happy Anniversary” in unison. Arnav walked up to the cake and kissed Malini softly on her cheek. The cake was cut, and the whole house resonated with happy music.

  The party had now regained its momentum, and everyone was having a gala time. At the end of the party, all the couples in the house were made to dance to a slow, romantic song. Arnav was a little reluctant at first but on Sagarika’s request he joined in with Malini. And what a soothing sight it was, as all the couples in the house swayed to the romantic number which was followed by a scru
mptious dinner.

  The party had now come to a close, and slowly all the guests started leaving. Rishikesh, Sagarika, Malini, and Arnav were sitting on the couch, savouring both the wine and the evening. Just then, three of Sania’s friends came into the hall.

  “Uncle, he was saying that you are an author,” said one of the kids pointing at his friend. “Could you tell us one story, maybe?” he added eagerly.

  “But don’t you guys have to run home?” asked Arnav, first time in a while. “It’s pretty late,” he added, looking up at the watch.

  “Oh no, we are staying back with Sania, and we have the permission for that from our parents,” said one of the teenagers.

  “But which genre do you want? Thrillers? Because they have gone out of fashion nowadays. The same old twists at the end,” said Arnav looking at the adults.

  “Let’s hear one, Arnav. Come on,” said Sagarika.

  “It’s been a while, since we heard one of the Arnav classics. Let’s all join in,” said Rishikesh addressing the two ladies in the room.

  Arnav glanced at Malini, who signalled him to agree to the request. “Alright, let’s go to the study then,” he said, and walked towards the study, followed by Sania and her friends.

  “He was never much of a talker, but a damn good writer according to me,” said Rishikesh getting up from the couch as all three of them walked to the study.

  As they entered the room, they saw Arnav sitting on the bed and the children on the floor. The three adults saw the same old Arnav, with his unique spark, which had somehow faded over the years. The old spark rekindled in his eyes, as he made himself comfortable on the bed. The same Arnav, who had always mesmerized them with his authentic stories during the early days in Mumbai. Now that their old Arnav was in front of them, they realized how much they craved for this, since the past few years.

  “So this story spans back to about 20 years, set in the 2000s,” said Arnav, clapping his hands together. “And let me warn you, this is an ‘A’ rated if that’s okay,” he continued looking up at the adults in the room.

  “We are okay with it. I am sure these kids must be already having a lot of “knowledge” beyond their age,” chuckled Rishikesh sipping on his wine again.

  “Okay, then this story starts in a stereotyped manner. A windy night, empty streets, traffic lights flickering,” started Arnav as the audience leaned intently.

  Chapter 2

  “That is an intriguing start, daddy. Hope the story doesn’t let us down, though,” said Sania with a smirk on her face.

  “Okay, then as I said before, this story starts in a typical manner that it is a dark night, empty streets, traffic lights flickering,” continued Arnav, ignoring the taunt.

  “Dad, start with the story please,” said Sania hurriedly.

  “Okay. Here it goes…” said Arnav mysteriously.

  It was 9:33 pm on a week day. The lanes were empty, and the traffics lights flickered. A tall, beautiful girl with sparkling eyes walked out of Oscar society, the heels of her sandals making an unusually deep, un-rhythmic hollow sound, implying she wasn’t comfortable in them. She managed to reach the gate and was instantly discouraged on looking at the barren street, the cool november air brushing her skin. She tried calling someone, but the call went answered. There she stood, stranded and helpless, waiting for a cab to arrive.

  And then suddenly, she saw a cab turning around the block and entering the alley. She ran uncomfortably and got close enough to stop the cab.

  “Bardez Villa chaloge?” she asked.

  “Madam, ye gaadi dur jaane vali hai. Aap koi dusri le lo” answered the cab driver.

  “Could you please take me? Mein yaha adhe ghante se khadi hu” requested the girl.

  “I don’t think so ma’am. Please look for another cab” he replied sternly.

  “Oh no, you are taking me to the villa. Can’t wait here all night long. The villa isn’t that far from here” said the girl, while getting into the cab hurriedly.

  Now the cab driver had no other choice, so they started on their journey to the villa.

  The alley was quiet. But as soon as they got onto the main road, the real hustle bustle began. People were walking half-clad, cheering at the top of their voices. Some were walking straight, and some were even barely walking. Some were running with their partners on their shoulders. Everyone was wearing bright and vibrant colours, colours that one would only wear in Goa. At the signal the car stopped adjacent to a food truck. People had flocked around the truck just as ants to a cube of sugar. The man who managed the counter could barely handle the crowd, as everyone was impatiently jumping and screaming their orders at the top of their voices, some even singing their orders in a melody. But this was an usual sight in the city of Panaji.

  But suddenly, the air was filled with loud honking noises as the signal had turned green, and a car had broken down mid-road.

  “Are you from Panaji?" asked the driver while driving through the traffic.

  “No, I am from Pune. I am here at my granny’s for a week,” she replied. “Could you turn on the radio, maybe?” she asked.

  “Sorry, madam, but the radio isn’t working,” replied the driver.

  “Oh, okay, weird, but okay. Your english is quite fluent for a cab driver, though,” the girl added.

  “Oh yes, madam! I am a third-year B.com student. This is my father’s cab. I only drive it occasionally, and tonight my father is out of town, so here I am, driving you to your destination,” answered the cab driver. “Big night is it, madam?” he added.

  “Yes! I am attending a house party at my friend’s place. And please don’t call me madam, we are around the same age, I guess. My name is Richa, and only Richa, please, no ma’am,” said the girl while leaning forward for a handshake.

  “Alright, Richa, Vivek here. Can’t really reach out for a handshake, but nice to meet you,” said Vivek with a smile.

  “It’s okay, no issues. So how long have you been doing this, Vivek?” asked Richa while taking out a joint to smoke.

  “Mada... I mean Richa, I don’t think you can smoke in this car,” said Vivek, stammering.

  “It’s fine. I will keep the window open, and we are friends now, aren’t we?” said Richa while taking a drag from the joint.

  “Madam, are you under some influence right now?” asked Vivek, puzzled.

  “Oh, yes, a bit. But who doesn’t pre-booze for a house party nowadays,” answered Richa a little unclearly. “But what did we decide on the madam thing. No madam, only Richa”.

  Vivek without reacting just kept on driving oblivious to what was happening in the back seat.

  “So Vivek tell me, do you play any sport?” Richa asked, a little disoriented.

  “I play football. I was in my junior college team back in 1997. We were called the Blazers,” answered Vivek with a smile.

  “Oh! You were part of Blazers!! I was in the same college but in 1999. Had to shift to Pune last year. But that makes me two years younger to you. Hence, “madam” goes out of the window,” said an amazed Richa.

  In this way, Richa struck a conversation with Vivek, laced with lot of laughter. The streets were barren with only a few checkpoints. Only a few street lights were working, which illuminated the car every time it passed under one. Richa kept on smoking the joint exhaling the smoke out of the window into the chill Panaji air.

  “Vivek, take a left into this alley and then take a right. It is a shortcut,” said Richa hurriedly.

  As soon as Vivek took the second right, there stood a big farmhouse with a lush green garden on either side, like it was straight out of a royal fairy tale. There were lamps on either side of the pavement leading to the entrance. The whole house was so bright and over lit, that it felt as if diwali had arrived early. You could even hear dampened pop music coming from within the mansion.

  “There you go, Richa. Your destination has arrived,” said Vivek in a robotic voice. “And that will be Rs 375”.

  “Okay, thanks a lo
t,” said Richa handing Vivek a 500 hundred rupee note.

  “Sorry, but I don’t have change on me. You will have to give me the exact change. Sorry for the inconvenience though,” said Vivek sheepishly.

  “No, it’s cool. But I’ll just have to call someone from inside and ask them to bring the change along,” said Richa.

  Richa tried calling a friend, but all her calls went unanswered. “Oh, shoot!! I’ll have to go myself and bring the change as no one is picking up any of my calls. You just wait here. I will be right back,” said Richa, in an assuring tone.

  She opened the door, got off the car, and walked a few steps only to turn and walk back towards the car and knocked on the window signalling Vivek to lower the window.

  “On second thoughts, do you want to join us for the party? There will be many people in there, so you might even go unnoticed, and anyway, my friends will be okay with me bringing a guest along with me. Vibha does it all the time… Okay, sorry for that extra information, but I would really love it if you join us, unless you have other plans,” said an exuberant Richa.

  “I mean…I might. Like…I have no plans. I was going to drive straight home anyway. But I don’t want to be a burden on you and your friends,” said a baffled Vivek.

  “I insist,” said Richa opening the door.

  “Alright then, I’ll just park the car and meet you at the entrance then,” said a confused Vivek.

  “Superb! Perfect! I will be waiting for you at the entrance then,” said Richa.

  So Richa stood at the entrance, taking out her hand mirror out, and started combing her hair and touching up her makeup. She adjusted her navy blue skirt showing discomfort in the movement. While she was doing that she was touched by someone on her shoulder suddenly.

  “Woah, Vivek!!! You scared me there,” said Richa catching her breath. And why do you look so nervous and pale? There are just human beings on the other side of the door, and you are with me so, just chill,” said Richa as she rang the bell.