by Faraaz Kazi
Rajiv slept well for the next two nights; without any nightmares. Saturday morning found him up early and he looked forward to the day with anticipation. But he was surprised to see that Mandar had already left.
“ASP sir went out very early. He said that he would be back for lunch. He asked you to wait for him,” the servant informed. He noticed the servant had become pretty amiable towards him after almost pushing him out that night.
Mandar was back before lunchtime. He told the whole story to Rajiv as the servant laid out the dishes.
“You were right. We picked him up at night and interrogated him. He tried to bluff his way out initially but soon broke down on seeing the photographs and certificate. I lied a bit and said that he and Poonam were seen at the PHC together by witnesses on the day of the incident. Once he knew he was trapped he started singing like a canary and spilled out the whole sordid story,” Mandar informed.
“Well, it is good to know that I am not suffering from a psychiatric disorder and there was indeed a paranormal presence at the PHC. But tell me what really happened that day,” Rajiv prodded.
“I still don't subscribe to the spirit part but Prem and Poonam were having an affair. They got married at the Civil Court and went on a honeymoon to Ooty without telling their families. Poonam conceived as a result. By then Prem was having second thoughts about their decision and realised that both their families would not accept the marriage. He was also tiring of Poonam and her rustic mannerisms, he said. He had applied to HDFC bank and had cleared the initial rounds. He wanted to escape from her clutches while Poonam was insistent on making their secret marriage public. Poonam coaxed him to go with him to Jhinjhana and help in convincing her parents.
“They drove to Jhinjhana on his bike and went to the PHC as Poonam knew nobody stayed there in the evening. She asked him to wait there as she did not want to take him directly to her house. She thought that she would talk to her parents first and then invite him. But it did not work that way. Poonam's parents refused to accept any alliance outside their community. In the end, Poonam rushed out of her home and ran to the PHC. She told Prem that it was a mistake coming here and her parents would never accept their marriage. She said that she was willing to leave her family. She wanted to go back to Muzaffarnagar and start living together with Prem as they were already married but he had other ideas. They started arguing while standing near the well and suddenly on an impulse Prem pushed her in. He waited till she drowned, drove back to Muzaffarnagar and told everyone the story of her suicide the next week. He picked up all her stuff from the PG accommodation and destroyed it. It was a matter of chance that the photographs below the mattress escaped his attention and eventually fell in your hand. He feigned depression, used it as an excuse to quit his job and promptly joined HDFC. He was under the impression that he had gotten away with his crime,” Mandar finished.
“So that is about it,” Rajiv sighed.
“He is already under arrest. I have talked to my counterpart in Muzaffarnagar as Jhinjhana falls in their jurisdiction. Rest assured that Prem Gupta will have to pay for his crime. And thanks to you, I have a remarkable success early in my career,” Mandar smiled, digging into the food.
Rajiv's heart asked him to do one last thing that he could not deny. He made his way to Subhash Ghaat and hunted up the traditional Panda (Priest) of the Chaudhury family of Jhinjhana, Muzaffarnagar. He informed him that he wanted to offer the Pind daan(Ritual prayer for the departed) for Poonam.
“Are you a relative?” the priest enquired.
“I think you can call me a friend,” Rajiv replied.
“Since no one else has come. I guess you can do it,” The priest
was anyway loath to let go of a prospective client and decided that a friend would do if there were no family to complete the rituals.
Rajiv offered the prayers on the banks of Ganges and completed the act. He prayed for the release of the disturbed soul. After signing the register and making the dakshina (donation) to the Panda, he felt incredibly light, like a heavy burden had been lifted off his shoulders.
Rajiv was back at the PHC. The first sight his eyes captured brought a smile on his lips. The flock of parakeets on the mango tree seemed to smile back at him while nibbling on the fruits and singing soft melodies.
“I like to tell people I have the heart of a small girl, then I tell them it's in a jar on my desk.”
¯ Robert Bloch
Dream Girl
I
stare at my nearly complete piece of art in the limited amount of light that floods this small room. The chainsaw in one hand still emanates vapours of dried blood from its blade while the scalpel in
my other, readies itself for the next step. I cast an appreciative
glance at my creation, making my heart brim with joy. Unlike other
men, I start admiring a woman's body from below. The long
slender legs with the small kneecaps, those juicy thunder thighs
that still fascinate me the same like the first time I had seen them. I always had a huge crush on Sunaina since our college days.
The sight of her in tight skirts that barely hid her underwear would
make my teenage hormones boil. Once she had bumped into me
while on the way to the library, spilling the books she was carrying.
With a look of penance, I had got down on my knees and gathered
all that fell near me and just as I was about to get up, those thunder
thighs shone in my face while she was bending to pick up a fallen
pen. That night I had fantasized about her behind the bathroom
door.
Dressed in my only suit, a fine garment that was torn from the
armpits, I asked her out some weeks later at a college event. “Have you ever seen your face in the mirror, monkeyman?” she
had guffawed, attracting the attention of all those around her. “What happened, Sunaina?” a guy who prided himself on being the college stud asked, walking over to her.
“The chimpanzee just proposed to me,” she had sneered, looking at my tearful face.
“Tchtch… poor chap, oh sorry… poor chimp. He still doesn't understand that pockmarked apes don't get dates,” the guy had said, inviting raucous laughter from the crowd.
I had felt like running away. No one had humiliated me in this manner before. I could make out when I was being teased behind my back but this was the first time I realised the effects the disorder could have on my life. My mother had always said that I was different and I had believed her until that day.
“Hey, wait, where are you off to? Are you crying? Why does your beak seem to get bigger when you cry?” the guy had asked my retreating form.
I had crunched my fists, swearing in my mind that if the guy came a step closer, I would punch him in the face. Luckily for him, one of our professors had interrupted and asked what the commotion was about, dispersing the crowd.
Some months later, I had seen Sunaina snogging the same guy as his hands roamed over her thighs behind the door of a deserted classroom on the second floor.
I took her four weeks back, unable to take my eyes off her milky white thighs that sloped down to reveal her elegant feet as she walked the ramp in a red tank-top and tight black skirt. I was part of the crowd and recognized her the moment I saw her come close, the humiliation coming back to me in an instant. I waited outside the venue once the show was over till I could see all the models
The Other Side
293
huddle together in a private bus. I followed the bus into the city, driving my van at a distance in the silent night. The bus would slow down at intervals to drop a model near her home and I counted seven of them alighting. As the bus reached the western outskirts of the city, I sneered at the figure of Sunaina clambering down alone, bidding goodbye to her model friends inside. She had changed into a basic tee and baggy cargoes. As the bus left, I got down from the van, slung the heavy bag on my shoulders and
followed her trail on foot. She turned down an empty alley, casually grooving to the music in her headphones, oblivious to my presence behind.To her left, an under construction building stood out in the dark. I smiled, sensing an opportunity.
I picked up a stray brick lying on the street and rushed towards her. A single blow was all that it took me to knock her out, aided by the fact that she couldn't even hear me coming. She only had time to mutter a solitary 'ah' before falling down into my waiting arms. I dragged her size-zero figure to the third floor of the under construction building. At two in the night, no one could be seen around. I dropped her on a mound of cement, hardly registering her blood on my shirt.
Without wasting any time, I pulled down her jeans. I sensed her stir, mumbling something, trying to protest weakly. I touched the smooth skin of her exposed thighs and licked her hairless feet with the tip of my tongue. I felt her stir again. This would have to wait till the mission is complete; I told myself and opened the bag. The metal blade of the chainsaw glinted in the dark. I shivered at its touch but I knew I couldn't back out now. Thinking about my desire, I plunged the saw at a forty-five degree angle above her right thigh. The scream that followed made me slam the butt of the saw on Sunaina's face, shutting her up. I could feel her body shaking, wildly thrashing beneath the force of the metal. Finally I managed to cut through the muscle and separated the limb. I switched ends to repeat the procedure for the other reversed leg as well. This time she did not thrash around much but I could see the sweat disappearing in the whites of her eyes.
With both legs safely tucked away in a separate blue bag, I stuffed all my belongings together and pushed the mound of cement over what remained of Sunaina, not of any use to me. I watched her cold body shudder for one final time before the black cement swallowed it.
I move around the figure, allowing my eyes to wander from the legs till they settle on the curvaceous bums protruding from the sexiest hips I had ever come across. Ah, that touch! I still remember the bus; bus no. 271 during that ride back home when I met her or rather felt her for the first time.
I was on my way back home from the bar some three weeks ago when the skies decided to open up. I took shelter under a crumbling bus stop. Some minutes later, a loaded bus, a 271 showed up cluttered with people. Knowing it would drop me a couple of lanes from my house, I pushed my way in hoping to find a seat at the back but soon the crowd made me move ahead where three burly guys sandwiched me near the seat reserved for ladies. I was having trouble standing on my own with the heavy bag slung on my shoulder, holding the bar above when all sensations came rushing back to my head on spotting this woman climb in from the front.
My eyes immediately focused on her bottom, full and shapely with narrow hips. I could sense her discomfiture as she struggled past the male crowd in front. I pushed back with all my drunken might to give her space between the person ahead and me and sure enough; she squeezed her frame in what was the only possible space she could find. I relaxed my lower body, allowing my senses to enjoy the touch of her satin suit. I inhaled deep, feeling the smooth round curves slam against my thighs. The bus braked abruptly, pushing our bodies forward and I nearly lunged to hold her in place as my hips catapulted into hers. She flinched a little and we were soon back to our original positions. This time I decided to use the liberty and dropped my hand down, pinching the flesh, feeling her waist down. The woman squirmed and turned to look at me, shifting uncomfortably. I didn't withdraw my hand, letting it lie there. She turned again, eyeing me with disgust and for a moment, I thought she would shout at me and make a scene but beyond the contempt I could recognize that shadow of hopelessness, of mute acceptance. I knew that feeling too well. I would not move my exploring palms from her bottom. She swatted at my hand without turning back this time. In response, I pinched her bottom hard, making her squeal. I was just about to put my hand inside her salwar to cup her bottom when I felt her tremble as she pushed me with her elbow and fought her way ahead. I did the same.
She alighted at the next stop though I was sure it was not where she wanted to get down. I did the same. She walked faster sensing my presence on the lonely road in the climbing night. I did the same. She broke into a run, her posterior inviting me to follow. How could I reject?
“Help, help!” she shouted too late, looking ahead at the deserted street, the lurching trees and the couple of dogs barking in the distance. I rushed ahead, tackling her with my head. Both of us lost our balance, she desperately trying to wring herself free from my grip even as we fell into the thicket of bushes over the slope to our left. Blood oozed out from little lines across our exposed skins where the thorns pierced our bodies. Our rolling came to a halt as we tumbled down some hundred meters below the elevated road, me on top of her. She opened her mouth to scream again and I grabbed the first thing that came to my hand and banged it against her skull with full force. The sturdy wooden branch snapped into two upon impact, a piece flying in another direction, while a small fragment rested in my hands. The woman convulsed once before going still as thick blood rained on the dried leaves beneath our bodies. A strap protruded from her handbag and I pulled it out.
“Manorama Reddy,” the identity card from FGI Technologies said.
I smiled in glee as I felt her breathing become shallow. I jumped aside, tugging at the knots of her salwar. With a single yank, I pulled it down along with her floral underwear. I smelled it once before stuffing it in my bag and pulling out the chainsaw. I calmed down my excited heartbeat and calculated the geometrical requirements in my intoxicated mind. I put the machine just above her waist. The extra skin could be of use in the final process. I pulled the plug and the blade stirred to life, gnawing through bone and splattering her blood over my body and face. I could feel Manorama trying to scream her agony even in her dying state. Half an hour later, I hugged the bottom and wrapped it in plastic before storing it in a separate blue bag. I rolled the remains down the ravine and set fire to thicket that was surrounded by blood. I wiped the blood off my face with Manorama's salwar before throwing it into the fire and then changed into a spareset of clothes that I carried in the bag, after dumping the soiled ones back into it. Just when I was about to leave, I saw a small fox trot warily in the corner, scared of the fire but eyeing something a few yards away from the thicket. It seemed like a toe to me.
I heave a deep sigh as that memory tingles my brain. I walk over to the basin and open the faucet, letting the cool water seep into the pores of my face and then I quickly turn back again to appreciate my marvel, unwilling to let it go out of my sight even for a moment. The same high returns. I can't describe this feeling. This is as close to what God must have felt like. She is my creation. A long pending dream poised to come true. My thoughts waver looking at the bust, a firm voluptuous chest, the smooth long waxed hands and the flat mid-riff that displays a swirling navel. Other thoughts fade away as the memory sinks in.
I had gone to clear my monthly bill at the phone gallery, a couple of weeks back. Waiting in the queue, I got impatient reminding myself about the remaining work to be done time and again.
“Yes, sir. How may I help you?” a sweet voice spoke ahead. I looked up to see a fair, young damsel of about twenty smiling at me. I had moved ahead slowly as the queue ahead shortened. I had wanted to move out of that stuffy place until my eyes caught a hint of her tempting cleavage. The first button of her shirt had come off without her knowledge and she was well endowed enough for her chest to play rebellious. She was new here that I could make out as I came here periodically and hadn't seen her on my earlier visits. I ogled, my eyes gauging the size of her breasts. I could swear they were the best set of boobs my eyes had ever tasted; their round shape and firm structure assaulted my senses as they strained against the cotton fabric of her shirt, begging my mind to imagine them with six inches of meat being rubbed between the squeezed balloons.
“Sir?” she repeated, seeking my attention.
“Ms. … Preeti, is it? Here's the bill,” I said, ex
tending the one page document, pretending as if I was reading the name plate on her chest.
She cleared the bill, not holding my gaze while buttoning up her shirt, shutting off that line from my eyes. I waited, hoping she would give me that warm smile and friendly 'goodbye' customerservice greeting which the others usually did. When she didn't, I had to move as the next person in line tapped my shoulder. Reluctantly, I walked out of the store and waited under the shade of a tree. My patience was my forte and I prided myself on it. I waited for a long time, finishing an entire packet of cigarettes and drowning two colas from the stall nearby.
Towards late evening, the security guard at the gallery came out to down the shutters, proclaiming it shut for customers. I smiled, sensing the moment draw near. Preeti came out half an hour later, dressed in a traditional brown sleeveless kurti and churidaar. Her glowing manicured hands screamed for attention, the first time my eyes noticing the appeal they contained. If I ever wanted arms to hold my love, it had to be those and then suddenly my attention fell on the buxom bulge of her top. The sight excited me into action, making me follow her. I mingled with the crowd at a distance, never once losing sight of quarry. She walked for twenty minutes and I silently pushed myself ahead. A couple of alleys ahead of the supermarket that was coming up in that area, I saw her enter a fourstoried building towards the further end of the road.