Tales of the Extraordinary

by Gerrard Wllson

days, weeks, months and years slowly passed, the Singe family settled down well into their new life. Despite feeling homesick for the old ways and the warm sun of the tropics, the each carved out a grand new life for their growing families.

  Four years after his arrival in England, Gupta met a beautiful young Indian woman called Sonita whom he fell madly in love with and then married. Two years later, after the arrival of a baby son, Gupta and his wife were about as happy and contented as they could possibly be.

  Having opened a shop, a convenience store that became indispensable to the local community, Indian and English alike, Gupta worked day and night to make is a success. Life was good for the Singe family. They looked forward to a long, happy and contented life together.

  One day, however, all of this changed, it changed utterly and completely, when a man – a newly arrived immigrant – entered the shop, enquiring if Gupta knew of anyone who had a room to rent.

  Happy to help a fellow compatriot find his feet in a foreign land, Gupta said, “I have a flat for rent over my shop.” He pointed upward. “Mind you it is quite small.”

  His eyes beaming, the man replied, “Small is okay, if I have as much room in heaven I will be so happy.”

  “Would you like to see it?” Gupta asked the heavily bearded man.

  “Yes, please,” he replied, offering Gupta his hand. “My name is Ali,” he said, smiling, “I am very pleased to meet you.”

  Having returned the greeting, Gupta led him outside to a separate door. Turning the key, Gupta invited Ali to follow him up the narrow stairway leading to the flat.

  “It is perfect,” said Ali as he wandered around the three small rooms, then back again to Gupta.

  “I haven’t yet told you how much the rent is,” Gupta warned.

  “How much?”

  “Three pounds per week, with a month in advance.”

  The smile on Ali’s face disappeared, and he said, “That much?”

  “It is the going rate,” Gupta said defensively.

  Buttoning his coat, Ali apologised for wasting Gupta’s time, saying, “Thank you for showing me your wonderful flat, but it is sadly more than I can afford…”

  At this point Gupta felt bad, so far removed from the teachings of his religion, to help his fellow man. As they walked down the narrow stairway, Gupta thought about it some more. When they reached the bottom of the stairs, he said cheerfully, “I tell you what I will do…”

  Ali listened with interest.

  “For the first six months, I will rent you the flat for only two pounds per week, after that it will return to the original three – I can’t be anymore fair than that!”

  Smiling again, Ali quickly agreed to his terms, promising to help in the shop during his spare time as a way of making up for the shortfall in rent.

  “If you give me a hand at the busy times, when I really need it,” said Gupta, “that will be fine.”

  So it was agreed, and within the week, Ali had moved into his new flat.

  For a while, everything went swimmingly, with Ali gladly helping in the shop whenever Gupta needed him. However, this happy situation failed to last, with Ali making more and more excuses as to why he was unable to help Gupta when he asked him.

  The kind-hearted Gupta readily accepted Ali’s excuses, thinking how he might feel if the tables were turned. Although Sonita had some doubts as to the validity of Ali’s excuses, she also accepted them in the spirit of genuine Indian hospitality.

  One particularly busy evening, just after Ali had made another weak excuse as to why he was unable to lend a hand, Gupta decided to look further into the situation of their lessee.

  “You can’t be serious, Gupta,” said Sonita after she had heard what her husband intended to do. “Suppose he finds out what you are doing? What will happen, then?”

  “Don’t worry, my wife,” Gupta replied, trying to calm her concerns. “I just want to find out who we really have living above us…”

  “But?”

  “It will be okay, I will be watching him from afar. I will be extra careful that he does not see me.”

  Nothing more happened for over a fortnight. Sonita had almost forgotten about her husband’s plan to follow their lessee, to try to find out what he was getting up to in his spare time, until one evening when Gupta came down from the flat with another lame excuse why Ali was unable to help.

  Tearing off his shop coat, Gupta grabbed hold of his raincoat and hat, putting them on in a flash.

  “What are you doing?” Sonita asked as her husband closed the venation blinds on the door. Lifting one, he peered through it.

  “Watching,” Gupta replied in a whisper.

  “Watching what?”

  “Shush, I think I can hear him…”

  There was a bang as Ali pulled his front door closed behind him.

  “I am going to follow him, so I am,” said Gupta as he carefully opened the shop door, to see Ali turning the corner at the end of the rain soaked street.

  “Be careful, my husband, Sonita warned as her husband disappeared into the night.

  As he made his way along the cold, wet streets, Ali had absolutely no idea that he was being followed, spied upon. Even when he reached his destination, a large red brick house, where he knocked once, then twice and then once again, he saw nothing to tell him someone was following.

  After a couple of minutes, a young woman opened the black painted door. After greeting Ali, she invited him in.

  “That’s it,” said Gupta from his position of concealment across the road, behind a pillar-box. “It’s a woman, and a rich one at that judging by the size of her house!”

  Happy that he had solved the case, that Ali was seeing a woman, that he was not the dark, shady character he had been beginning to imagine, Gupta made his way back to his shop.

  “Well?” asked Sonita as Gupta took off his rain-soaked coat and hat.

  “Well what?” he teased.

  “Ali – where did he go?”

  “Oh, Ali,” Gupta answered, pretending he had all but forgotten about him.

  “Come on,” Sonita warned as she grabbed hold of an egg.

  “No, not the stock,” Gupta cried, in fake concern for his profits.

  “You have one second, then you get it,” Sonita laughed, raising the egg, making ready to throw it.

  “All right, all right,” Gupta laughed, “I will tell you what I saw. There is nothing to worry about, my wife,” he explained, “Ali has been making himself busy – with a woman, that’s all, a woman.”

  “A woman?” Sonita exclaimed, “then why all the secrecy?”

  “He must be a shy lover, I guess.”

  The Singe’s stopped asking Ali to help in the shop, thinking he had other, more amorous things on his mind than baked beans and cornflakes.

  Despite this change, Ali never once asked why they had stopped asking him. Whenever he came into the shop, when they were particularly busy, he never offered to help; he simply paid for his purchases and left without saying a word.

  As the days passed, Ali withdrew further into himself and his secretive life. He never ever spoke to the Singe’s about it, until one quiet evening when he came down to the shop, to purchase a pint of milk…

  “Hello, Gupta,” said Ali, seeing him enter the shop.

  “Hello, Ali,” Gupta replied with the same welcoming smile he offered all his valued customers.

  “I’m in need of some milk,” Ali explained. “It’s thirsty work trying to study.”

  “You are studying?” Gupta asked, surprised that Ali could actually find the time, considering his work amorous commitments.

  “Oh, yes, I am studying the Cryptic Agenda for improving one’s whereabouts in the order of life,” Ali proudly informed him.

  “Hmm, that is a mouthful…”

  “It is more than that, Gupta,” said Ali as he placed the bottle of milk onto the shop counter, and rummaged in his pockets for some change.

  “What exactly is
it?”

  Sorting the money from an assortment of buttons, coins, keys and pieces of paper that he had taken out from his pocket, Ali placed the correct amount onto the counter, and said, “It is a complete way of life – a life change. Oh, Gupta, I am so happy…”

  “I am pleased for you,” said Gupta, with the same customer-welcoming smile he had offered him minutes earlier.

  Over the coming weeks, Ali visited the shop on a growing number of occasions, each time buying milk, cheese or eggs.

  “My, you do like your protein,” Gupta exclaimed one evening, when Ali purchased two pints of milk and a dozen extra large eggs.

  “We need protein,” Ali replied in all seriousness, “for the Transmigration…”

  “The trans – what?”

  “The Transmigration,” Ali repeated, raising a finger to his lips lest the customer at the rear of the shop might hear, “is when we pass over to the next stage of existence – to Alocyrrehcyzzif…”

  “Alocyrrehcyzzif?” asked Gupta, struggling to pronounce the word, let alone understand it.

  Smiling from ear to ear, as if he had just won a million pounds on the lottery, Ali said, “It is Nirvana – Heaven, whatever you wish to call it. In our case we call it Alocyrrehcyzzif .”

  Confused, Gupta asked, “Who is calling it this?”

  “The Cryptic Agenda, of course,” he answered. “Gupta, I have so much that I want to tell you and your lady wife… You see, this is why I have been unable to help in your wonderful shop. I have been taking my studies.”

  “I know that, you already told me.”

  “Yes, it is true – I must tell you all about it!”

  “Try and relax, Ali, have a drink of cola – it’s on the house.”

  “No, I cannot drink