by Faraaz Kazi
When I was reasonably sure about her schedule after following her for a couple of days, I chalked out the plan of action. Like the earlier two, I couldn't take her spontaneously. The evening I was waiting in the van parked opposite the gallery in hopes of executing the plan, it started raining again.
“Damn,” I cursed aloud but then sensed that the rain would give me additional cover towards the late evening and play down any sounds.
After two hours of making me wait, Preeti came out of the service store wearing a blue kurti and matching white churidaar, along with a female colleague. I crunched my fists in frustration, hoping she would not go along with the other lady.
“You're one lucky babe. You got a hike within a month. I'm jealous but this calls for a celebration. Anyway, we won't have to worry about the appraisal anymore,” the other girl said, hugging Preeti as soon as they had emerged from the gallery. Now her leaving late started making sense. Appraisal indeed! Good for me.
“Yes. Let's have lunch tomorrow. My treat!” Preeti said, brushing stray strands of hair as she opened her umbrella.
“I would save you the trouble,” I muttered under my breath.
I had noted earlier that my best chance to take her would be the alley near her building as it seemed to be on the verge of collapsing with very few people living in that area and I was very sure being a rainy night, no one would bother roaming on that mucky path. I followed Preeti at a distance driving slowly; keeping a check on her form that was rushing ahead in the rain. Just when she was about to near the alley, I accelerated quickly checking the alley on the left as I passed her. Sure enough, I couldn't spot a single person there. I braked and reversed rapidly, halting the van just ahead of the entrance to the lane as soon as she had entered the pathway. I exited the vehicle and walked up to her. I tapped her shoulder from behind and as soon as she turned, I slammed the metal rod on her head covering her mouth with my hand. I dragged her slumped form under the cover of the darkness and dumped it in the back of the vehicle. The rain pounded the windows as I drove at a furious speed, the sight of her heaving chest in the backseat egging me on. Within half an hour, I had reached an abandoned graveyard behind a crumbling church.
I pulled the vehicle in a corner and hurriedly jumped out of the van. I lifted her buxom body on my shoulders along with the bag and walked ahead, trying to find an appropriate place. I placed her down on the marble slab over a muddy grave and tied her up with the rope from my bag and taped her mouth. I pulled and tore her dress with beastly ferocity and threw it aside. Her breasts jutted in my face, augmented by the bondage, the red bra she was wearing inside was a subtle allegory to her soon to be fate. I lugged at her bra, not bothering to turn her over to unbuckle it. Her breasts shone red in the darkness, relishing my naked assault. I sighed, deep and lustful, looking at the pair.
“Just sometime more,” I pleaded to them and pulled out my companion from the bag. The blade roared to life as I pulled the plug. Suddenly Preeti shook her body; her eyes flying open, staring at the blade in horror. I smiled at her in an assuring way, caressing her breasts with my palm and pinching the thick outline of her nipples.
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“It will just take a while,” I winked and plunged the blade into her shoulders.
Tears of blood fell at my feet, mixing with the rain and watering the wild plants around the graves as the saw tore through all bodily barriers. Mid-way she arched her head back once and then it collapsed with the tongue rolling out.
“Rest in peace,” I whispered, neatly slicing out the bust and placing it in the plastic bag. I put the soft, mud-stuck hands in another bag.
The rain would take care of the pool of blood. I just needed to dispose the body whose purpose had been served in this life. I saw an abandoned pick lying about a hundred meters ahead. It took me a tiring hour to dig up an existing grave. Broken bones and soiled hair greeted me as I opened the grave.
“You have company,” I informed the lifeless skeleton inside and kicked Preeti six feet under.
Do I feel remorseful? Guilty? Heck, no! Why should I? They didn't when they insulted me, abused me, and kicked me out of social gatherings. The girls who rejected my advances never felt I had a heart too. The families of the girls who would come on the invitation of my old mother would leave abruptly on seeing my picture, even before I could greet them. What was I? The Devil reincarnate? Yes, they thought so and yes, that's what I had become for them. I would show them. I had taken my revenge on this world, this world that so hated my face. I would have a woman, a woman far more beautiful and perfect than any of their daughters, sisters, mothers and wives.
As I speak about beauty, my eyes rest on that face. Ah, that pretty countenance that completes my creation. The closed eyes have a sparkle of blue inside, the long shapely nose adds to the glamour of the soft, clear and fair skin and those lips that I see pouting out are the most arresting feature of the face. Although somewhere they still seem frozen in that last minute scream. The long slender neck, the short folded ears and the flowing silky blonde hair, Rosalyn was surely the prettiest face I had ever come across.
I remember that day. How can I forget? It was just a week ago when seven armed terrorists stormed the city, killing people and taking hostages. However, in the earlier part of the evening there was only hearsay that I would catch from gossiping tongues and hurried legs in the crowd on the busy promenade near the seashore. I had parked the van right in front of a popular international hotel and was just thinking about getting in the van and leaving for home when I saw a SUV reversing just a row ahead. I waited to let it pass and through the rolled down windows, I saw her looking towards
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the sea with those transparent blue eyes. My heart almost banged against my ribs as I soaked in the features of her face. Slinging the bag on my shoulder, I moved forward to observe her from a close range. Hiding behind a car parked a couple of meters ahead of her vehicle, I could clearly hear her shouting at the driver.
“The parcel contains urgent documents that have to be mailed by tomorrow. We can't leave without it. Go to the room now and fetch it,” she said, her voice raised.
The driver clearly irritated by her tantrums, stopped the SUV and alighted. I could see him walking towards the hotel on the opposite side at a furious pace. I was following his steps with my sight when suddenly the guy collapsed on the streets, followed by three more people who were huddled at quite some distance from him. I didn't even have time to register that moment when out of the blue, gunshots rang out aloud. I hid behind the car and saw people walking on the opposite side fall to their death. Ahead of me, the lady shrieked and on pure impulse I rushed towards the SUV taking cover of the cars behind and jumped in. Thankfully, the driver had left the keys on.
“Hey, stop. Who are you?” she screamed in my ears. “Terrorists have taken over the city. I'll have to drive us to safety. Consider me a friend,” I said, starting the engine. “What? Wait, I can't trust you,” she replied.
“You've no other option unless you want to stay here and wait for death or step out and be shot at,” I said. That seemed to have the supposed effect and she sobered down. She was trying to use her cell phone when I zoomed the vehicle ahead.
“Damn, the networks are jammed. Do you have a phone?” she asked looking at me as I drove on nearly deserted streets. “No,” I lied.
“Where are we going?” she asked in her accented voice. “To the outskirts, where it will be relatively safer,” I answered
focusing on the potholed roads as I drove through narrow lanes, avoiding the police barricades that were being set up on the highway.
“What's your name?” I asked, noticing her light a brown cigar. “Rosalyn Newmann,” she muttered, looking away. “And you?” she asked back.
“Manmohan Singh,” I said eyes unblinking.
She shrugged and looked out of the window. I could see her mumbling things to herself through the rea
rview mirror. She was shivering, clearly nervous at her predicament when I pulled the SUV in the lane leading to my home.
“Come,” I said, locking the doors and pointing the way.
She hesitated at first but soon followed. There was no one around when I took her inside my flat, careful to keep my 'private' room out of her view, lest she introduced herself to the headless torso her beautiful face was soon going to adorn.
“Would you like a drink?” I offered the moment she took the chair.
“Do you have some vodka?” she asked, clutching her head.
I nodded and stepped into the kitchen. From the topmost shelf, I brought down the required bottle and poured the alcohol into two glasses. When they were almost full, I took a packet lying atop the refrigerator and threw in half a dozen pills in the glass to my left. When I came back, Rosalyn was standing near the window overlooking the far-flung forest.
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“Thanks,” she said, accepting the glass from my hand. “So what do you do?” she asked, the first of many questions which I lied to. Twenty minutes later when her speech had slurred, she moved closer to my chair and planted a soft kiss on my lips. I shivered involuntarily.
“You've been so helpful. I can't thank you enough,” she said, climbing atop me and getting rid of her top in one swift motion.
“No!” I said and pushed her down on the floor. I went for her face. Feeling her soft skin brush my stubble as my palms ran through her hair. She sighed at my touch and pushed her lips over mine. Her hands reached for my six inches over my pants but I brushed them off. I bit her lips as hard as I could. She whimpered in ecstasy. I could feel her grip loosening over my back, as I tasted her mouth, biting her lips again, devouring them in heated passion. She groaned once and stopped responding; going still and I gradually pulled myself back from kissing her. Groaning, I pumped my fists knowing there was work to be done to accomplish my mission.
I carried her almost naked body to the bathroom and tied up her limbs, which could disturb my concentration. I taped her mouth firmly enough so that she would not scream to wake up the old couple that lived upstairs.
The chainsaw smiled at me with its rusty gleam. I touched the base of her neck marking the spot in my mind. She didn't even twitch as the hungry steel met her nerves. Alcohol and sleeping pills are indeed a deadly combination, I noted. When half the blood had flown through her body through the gaping hole and I had extracted the head into my hands, Rosalyn's eyes suddenly shot open. Shocked, I dropped the head and it rolled on the ground, coming to rest near the bucket. The eyes looked at me in an accusing stare as blood gurgled out of the lips I had kissed a few minutes back. I watched nervously as the decapitated head shut its eyes inch by inch before finally blackening out and rolling over. I gingerly picked up the prized possession, holding it by the long hair. I washed off the blood and preserved it in the plastic bag for the time being. It took me three hours to slice the body into small pieces and fill up the two large black plastic bags. Before the sun could think of greeting the world, I was back in the SUV with Rosalyn packed off in those two bags. Half an hour later, the SUV along with Rosalyn inside was on its way down the mountain valley overlooking the expressway.
The room seems to give an iridescent glow. Rosalyn's face radiates a different kind of beauty, almost untamed on Preeti's soft bust and smooth hands that sit over Manorama's shapely bottom, which in turn lies perfectly perched on Sunaina's thunder thighs and creamy legs. All of them carefully stitched together by my very own hands to form my creation. The sight seeps into my desire hungry soul as I stare at them together as one… no, as I stare at her…my dream girl- beautiful beyond description, too captivating for me to spend another day without her. I have waited all my life. I can't wait anymore. I can feel the need in me for her companionship.
I know what I have to do. The tantrik had blessed my purpose with his guidance. I shuffle the curtains and look up at the dark sky through the window. Yes, the moon is missing and I can see the darkness spreading its shadows over the land. I smile in anticipation; I know the hour has come. Today is the fifth week and the night when I would taste the fruit of my success. I dump the chainsaw, thanking it with a kiss for all its assistance and I lay down the scalpel alongside with reverence.
Out comes the red velvet carpet on which I place my dream girl, careful not to hurt her. The black book bound in a newborn calf's hide has to be handled with veneration. I kiss the hard bound cover and gently open it. The letters inside appear to be swimming in front of my excited eyes. Their red colour seems to soothe my adrenaline rush. Pig's blood mixed with that of a virgin's first break, I remember the tantriktelling me.
Slowly I turn the pages, searching for the incantation. A distant rumble announces the arrival of a storm. But I am sure the storm in my heart is far more powerful and strong than the tempest outside. I stare at my dream lying before me, hands folded, legs extended, a serene look pasted on her face. Soon now!
The raindrops start pelting the windows trying to drown out my sound as I start the recital of the blood-bathed incantation, my finger tracing the words.
“Three hundred and ninety-six times. Not a number more, not a number less!” The tantrik's voice booms in my ears. The jaapmaalain my other hand helps me count the numbers.
'One hundred and twenty-three… One hundred and twentyfour… One hundred and twenty-five,' I keep a mental count.
A thunderous wave lights the skies and the room, shaking the earth and making me frown in displeasure. I raise my voice, the chanting assuming a deep element of passion and devotion. I shut my eyes, trying to make myself immune to everything around me. I focus on the incantation. Where was I? Yes!
'One hundred and twenty-five… One hundred and twentysix…. Twenty-seven… Twenty-eight.'
The tantrik had asked me to start the elemental ceremony as soon as I crossed the halfway mark.
'One hundred and ninety-six… ninety-seven… ninety-eight.'
I proceed to pinch the mud taken from a fresh grave gathered in the bowl of earth lying beside me, continuing to chant the incantation which is at the tip of my tongue by now.
The carefully drawn circle of camphor, inside which I have placed myself along with my dream girl comes into play as I light a match and place it at the northern end. In seconds, small flames surround us, casting threatening shadows on the walls.
Another clap of thunder rocks the area and the dogs start whimpering as a howl of wind barges into the room from the window towards my left. The icy chill hits my face, ruffling her hair, sniffing at her courteous frame and running through her limbs yet not dousing a single flame.
Gingerly, I uncork the bottle of water lying beside me.
“From a stream that runs at the foot of the Himalayas,” the tantrikhad smiled as he had handed this to me.
For a moment I stare at the liquid inside.
“Your saliva should be a part of the fluid that washes her body,” the voice reminds me.
As I chant the incantation for the two hundred and seventyeighth time, I take a small sip from the bottle, gargle my parched throat and slowly let the water slip out of my lips. It falls down on her forehead like a steady waterfall, splattering against her forehead and running down her face. Moving around carefully, I repeat the procedure in the remaining three directions, covering all ends of her body.
Three hundred! Yes, the time nears. A shiver runs down my spine drowning the effect of the roaring storm outside. I close my eyes thinking of her and our future together.
The blade of the chainsaw is not yet blunt. I seek a last favour from my loyal friend.
“A shower of your blood coming from the same weapon that helped you fetch her, so that she becomes yours forever… in life and death,” the tantrikhad promised.
With a final smile, I place my hand over her calm face as I pull the plug, making the blade compete with the roar of the storm outside. With a heroic effort, I drag the blade over my hand. The sto
rm and the chainsaw combine their laughter to drown out my screams, their scuffle crushing every howl that escapes my trembling lips.
Through narrow dripping eyes that blink as the sweat from my forehead runs to them like an eager child, I observe her body soaked in my blood; a severed limb lying in the background, kicked aside by my flailing legs, still twitches in its perishing glory.
I drag my half-conscious body towards her. I watch in fascination as her entire being absorbs the blood of my body; it seeps through her skin, her lips and all the entrances of her form. A movement catches my eye. I notice her knees knocking against each other. I try to smile even in the pain as I try to help myself sit up. The wave of life passes through her waist then her chest, making her body tremble thrice. Outside, the storm subsides as suddenly as it had started, not a sound can be heard anywhere. The dogs too have stopped barking. The perfect moment! Her lips quiver once, twice before her eyes dart open and she suddenly shoots up, her torso clearing the ground in a second, knocking me out of the circle of the dying flames and plunging the room into darkness.
I look up at her, trying to help myself up with the one hand that still serves me. I can't see her face as it hides behind the long blonde tresses but I can see those blue eyes, looking me through and through. They suddenly seem to turn reddish black, a deep shade of malice swimming inside. I inch closer, unable to control the pain the distance throws my way. My creation, my dream girl!
I try to find the love in her eyes as they open wide staring at me, seemingly indifferent. A powerful gust of wind enters once again from the open window to the left, unbalancing me and pushing her hair back. I just have a second to absorb her appearance before falling over as her levitating body crashes into me with elongated fangs that curve downwards on the face of the devil. No storm drowns my scream as the blade sinks into the nape of my neck.
“… she becomes yours forever… in life and death,” the tantrik'svoice sounds extremely close this time.