"To find the needle in the haystack, put the hay on fire and wash away the #ash," Insp. Shokie said studying the cases.
First 12 were vulnerable preys troubled on SM.
The 13th - the predator who chose those targets.
Someone turned the tables on the killer, she noted.
#vss365
We talked a lot last night.
A first for me. Till 4 am. Wow.
Unbelievable it was.
Will we tell someone else? You know, what we shared.
We might. Let’s not worry about that.
I might buy love with that, you know, barter secrets for trust.
Ironic but understandable. I might use it in my stories.
Will others recognise us?
They will be searching for themselves.
Will we stop talking to each other?
We might.
For the sake of lovers, spouses, kids, we just might.
Or when we lose interest.
Or when there’s a mismatch in give and take.
Will we be ready for that?
Maybe. Maybe not.
Let’s cross that bridge when we get to it.
I love this.
Me too.
Is it time for some silence?
This is not an art movie.
Let’s cook. Or go for a walk. Together.
Come here. Sit next to me.
We better not stop talking. Don’t laugh.
I am not.
Should we try silence?
Should we?
I have been losing
Memory I never had
That’s not a riddle
Not even contrary to popular opinion
It’s the dark matter
Of all that we are
Love is built on such
Hate too probably faith definitely
How we like to think we live with what we know
How we assume and borrow to cope
I wanted to write something
deep
or honest
or worth your time
But
it is Sunday morning
when I think
about
why I asked
Will you marry me
or why I did not say
I love you
Ah
They
won’t be thinking
about
that
this Sunday morning
or
any other day.
Discovered dating too late,
With action & words out of sync
As in a badly dubbed movie.
She asked for #wine and salad,
I chose double choc ice-cream soda
Before parotta and beef double fried.
She wanted mine,
Avoid hints and amore
Before parotta and beef double fried.
#NAlove
“How do we solve this case, Insp. Shokie?”
“Sexual abuse and caste discrimination—the two crimes tough to prove. Even the ‘good’ will support the sick smug scum. Then, the counter-charges, the support of influencers and the #sense-less public’s apathy or worse disgust.”
#vss365
'Today, I read 'Ar-#rhythm-ic Life'. It is about me. Who knew what I did to her?'
"Suicide notes should say more."
"Who wrote the book, Insp. Shokie?"
"Who else? Never write about yourself. And, never forget your pseudonym. You are your worst enemy even without that."
#vss365
A serial killer is responsible for four deaths in the last week. The State Police Chief calls these the Hashtag Murders. Of the four deaths, two were earlier considered to be suicide; one, a murder-suicide pact; and, the fourth, a kidnapping gone wrong.
A Special Investigation Team (SIT) led by Inspector Shokie is handling the case. The Inspector is a once-capable investigator who was on long leave after being disgraced in the brutal Shekhar Case. She allegedly fabricated evidence implicating her nemesis Shekhar.
Going against her usual procedure, Inspector Shokie met the press and released details of the Hashtag Murders.
She began by telling the public to be vigilant and added ominously that that might be the only way the SIT can catch this killer.
She listed what the SIT has found till date.
1. The killer has been active in the State for more than thirteen years and killed fifty three or more.
2. The four in the last week is an escalation in activity. The average murder rate of this killer in the past was one in three or four months. The SIT is unsure if the heightened activity is due to the diversion of the police force for irrelevant political roadshows.
3. The four deaths in the last week share a common feature: the death is associated with some hashtag on social media.
a) The lady doctor in Kollam was pushed into a state of depression due to the dowry demand of her fiancé. The latter was ironically an activist doctor well-known for protests related to the hashtag StopViolenceAgainstDoctors. The lady's death was considered to be suicide before the SIT discovered that this was the first kill of the serial killer in the last week.
b) The lady professor in Kochi was a political activist. She lost her job after retweeting a post connected to the hashtag Palestine. In the post, the influencer praised his young kid's hatred and call for annihilation of the state of Israel and its people. The 'suicide' of the lady is now confirmed to be the second kill.
c) The duo in Palghat involved in the murder-suicide pact met via the hashtag WeMetOnX. The lady hacked the man to pieces before hanging herself in the outhouse. This crime too was abetted by the serial killer.
d) The kid in Kannur was kidnapped and brutally murdered by the family in huge debt. The family has a huge following on social media. Their posts with the hashtag AmateurCrime have gone viral. This was the fourth kill.
4. The deaths have another common feature which helped the SIT discover that an outside agent is responsible for these four crimes and the fifty three in the past. There were always notes left at the scene of the crime including the two 'suicide' notes in the last week. In all the notes, the first sentence is 'I am sorry to the dear ones I leave behind.' and the last sentence is 'See you at the end of the tunnel.'
5. Inspector Shokie admitted that the SIT has no leads as of now to catch the killer. She speculated that the killer of unknown gender somehow contacts, gets close and convinces the victims to do the final act, whether it be suicide or murder or kidnap.
6. She released a profile of the killer: 'Kind person, understanding, approachable and trustworthy, altruistic, with no motive and no moral fiber as per common standards, inactive but observant on social media, not any common trope like hacking IT whiz or abused sociopath, not depressed but with persistent anger issues, not religious but with uncommon personal attachment to God.'
#crimefiction
‘This novel is made up...There is no doubt, however, that the novel is born of a specific reality.’
-Andrea Camilleri on his book ‘The Wings Of The Sphinx’
"Always," Insp. Shokie paused, "follow the kill with no #thrill."
"If a case seems simple, it is never that. Take the bigshot whose car hit a journalist by mistake. What's the hidden story? The former was with an escort-cum-drug dealer. The latter was chased, murdered."
#vss365
"Insp. Shokie, have you ever had such a case?"
"Guy falls in love. Turns out to be a honey trap. Dares the lady to reveal all. Death wish? But, who killed him? That lady? His wife, parents, in-laws, ex (plural)? Or all? If he inspired anything, it wasn't #compassion."
#vss365
Is he a bigot? Will he go back to his violent ways when Trouble comes home?
I wrote this short story 'Open Up' (yeah, yeah, a story set in lockdown days) last year.
Number of words: 2280
OPEN
UP
Six months
into lockdown and life has not been better. No husband, no abuse. He still
comes for money. That is done from a safe distance. Social distancing be
praised.
I have not
got out of this compound. It has been eight months since I went to my village.
My kids call once in a while. To ask for money. I tell them to get it from
their father. Let them try that.
In this
house, life has been the same. Amma has to spend more time with Appa. His
bladder is giving him more trouble and he is weaker. Yettan does the shopping.
I have to clean one more room, upstairs, because of the newcomer.
I have been
with them for fifteen years or so. I am from their village. A distant relative
of some sort. Yettan was not here when I first arrived. He was in some high
post somewhere. Then, it was just me, Amma and Appa. And, the constant trouble
from my husband. The old couple could do nothing to stop him.
Then, Yettan
came back. Retired early after all that trouble in the papers. I still remember
that rainy afternoon. The brute of a husband was drunk and he was hitting me
with his belt. We were fighting in the small backyard. He wanted money. He did
not like it when I asked him about his woman. We did not notice Yettan at
first. I saw him only when the beating stopped and when my husband looked up, his
anger turning into something meek and scared. Yettan was standing on the first
floor back balcony staring at us. Truth be told, his eyes scared me too. I have
seen such eyes when Rajan, the village butcher, kills a buffalo. Dead eyes to
bring death to the living. After that day, my husband behaved well within the
compound. Even when we met outside, he was better-behaved. Once, when he was
drunk, he said something like, “You and your Yettan…” but he did not complete
the sentence even though I urged him to do so. When the lockdown started,
Yettan told us that I could meet my husband outside the compound only if I
wanted to leave for good. I did not want that, nor did my husband.
Do I not make
it sound as if Yettan is always hovering near me? After he returned home,
disgraced and alone, he occupied two rooms on the first floor. Amma, Appa and I
continued as usual downstairs. The old ones were happy to have his company.
Even when he was away working, he visited every two months, took them to the
village and to the hospital for check-ups. Their two daughters have been here
only for Onam or some occasion like that. The Uncle next door and Appa talk on
the phone at times. They do not really need the phone. Both are hard of hearing
and the whole neighbourhood gets to hear what they say. It is fun when they
talk politics. Amma here and Aunty next door try to hush them up, scared that
the local goons will hear their views and pay a visit. “Let them come, those
parasites,” the old men cackle. They are more serious when they talk about
their kids. “Don’t worry, they will come when you are dead, if they haven’t
grabbed all that’s theirs, they will come.” Appa kept quiet when Uncle said
that.
I think
Yettan is just a guest. The house will go to one of the two daughters. Once in
a while, when Yettan is in a bad mood, he pokes at Amma and Appa about their two
beloved kids. He never says three kids. He might be a guest but he did not want
me to clean his bedroom or study room. I saw him only when he came down for
meals. Or when he cooked chicken. I can cook better but it is fun when he tries
these new recipes. That is the only time I have seen him smile. He was not like
that before. I remember when he was young, when he used to visit our village. “The
young man with a sweet smile always,” everyone said. He used to be religious
then. Now, he does not even pray before the lit lamp downstairs. I think he is
still very religious within.
She arrived
about a month after lockdown started. Two days before she came, Yettan had a
yelling session with his parents. “Don’t you dare say anything to her. And tell
your two kids to stay away from her.” Amma and Appa looked scared and
uncomfortable. They kept their heads down. Amma cried in the storeroom.
Even though I
had expected it, I remember the news when Yettan retired, it was quite a shock
to see her in that outfit. It took a while for us to notice her big expressive
eyes, so like Yettan’s. I knew that look in her eyes. She was scared. Really
scared. Of course, I would know that look. Poor thing, I thought. Still, she did
not have to wear that here? I didn’t say anything. I wanted to. But Amma
silenced me with a look.
How old is
she now? She was two years old when all that happened. Thirteen years have gone
by, I think. She must be in high school. At home, she wears normal stuff.
Yettan gave his bedroom to her. Set up a study table there for her. He asked me
if I could clean her bedroom too. Of course, I said. I helped them set up a
prayer corner. She placed her mother’s photo there. Amma told me that the kid’s
mother and step-father were among the first casualties of the Covid. The kid prayed
quite frequently. First few days, we saw her only during meal time.
Appa smiled
at her. It was a fake smile. He is like that. He just cannot lie. When Yettan
was not around, he poked at the kid. “Don’t you have to wear that when you eat?
How can you raise the veil when you eat?” Amma pinched him and made him stop.
They glared at each other. They acted as if nothing had happened when Yettan turned
up. The kid did not tell Yettan about all that. He would have given Appa hell
then.
Yettan slept
in his study room. The first week, he stayed in that room a lot. She stayed in
her bedroom. There was a lot of silence in the house.
It was Appa
who changed first. He is like that too. Quick to show his emotions, quick to
change his affection. He told the kid stories of his childhood. How they
struggled during the war, how he lost a year of school because there was no
money. I knew those stories by heart. He narrates it over and over when I clean
the house. Amma took her time. But then, she is like that. Even with Yettan,
who she loves dearly, I wonder if she has hugged him even once. He has not
either, I am sure. Like mother like son. But he has got Appa’s temper. Not
quick though. But when he loses control, he is worse than Appa. Is that not why
he lost all?
Ten days
after her arrival, Yettan made new rules for her. A schedule. She did not like
it. Those scared eyes turned angry. Like father like daughter, I thought.
Yettan did not give her a choice. “I am not a baby for you to order me around,”
she shouted at him. Downstairs, I heard that and smiled. Appa too. It was
exactly like how Yettan shouted at his parents. Amma glared at us. Appa
continued to smile. He nearly laughed.
Every day, they
get up at half past five. That is when I wake up. They exercise on the back
balcony. I do not know what they do there but I can hear them. “I can’t do
more,” she would complain. Silence from him. A little later, “Raise your leg
higher. Kick properly.” I took mental notes when he told her where to attack a
guy. “If anyone touches you or irritates you in any way, you tell me.” Silence
from her.
They have
breakfast after bath. Then, for one hour, she has to be with Amma. “Wash or
wipe dishes, help around.” Amma and I wanted to tell him that she is not needed
but we keep quiet. Then, she studies. That was even before school started.
After lunch, again, she has to help. Then, she is free till teatime. After
every meal, she has to help us like Yettan even though both were just making it
tougher for me. She helps Yettan and me sweep and clean the courtyard and back
area. She can pray when she wants. The schedule includes that. From six to
dinner time, he sits with her and both of them go through textbooks. I sit on
the stairs listening to them. He is so different when he is teaching. Soft,
involved. The kid responds accordingly. She sounds excited, curious, happy. I
wish someone would talk to me like that.
There was
some problem when schools started online classes. That too came in the paper. Saroja,
the helper next door, told me that something had gone viral socially. Not
Covid. She gives me such news. She is very good with her clever phone.
Yettan got
her admission in his old school. They wanted her to wear uniform, and not her
outfit, during online classes. Yettan argued she should be allowed to wear her
veil.
Amma and Appa
were very tense then. “I knew he would do something to her,” Appa mumbled. Amma
silenced him quickly when she saw I was around.
It came in
the papers. The government and some politicians got involved. Saroja whispered
from the other side of the wall that the fight was really vicious online. She
said that the kid and Yettan were being roasted alive. Even those who used to
support him were attacking him.
The kid was
really scared. When the fight turned ugly, she asked Yettan, “Should I change
my ways?” He did not reply. She repeated her question. He replied then, “Continue
as you are till you are an adult. Then, you better think.”
The fire died
down unexpectedly. Saroja was really excited. She told me Yettan turned up
online. Saroja told me he killed all with one tweet. “What’s that?” I asked.
Saroja ignored my question and reported the tweet, “Ask your bosses if you want
skeletons to come out of the closet. If my daughter, or anyone close to me,
even catches a cold…” After that, nothing. Not even a poke from any side.
The school
did not like the publicity, I think. Some politician called him a betrayer and
that he had had more guts when he stood with their party against such stuff.
Yettan was not with any party at any time, I am sure. He had bashed up the guy
really good, I know. Who would not bash up a guy who takes your wife? That too
like that! Yettan did not touch his ex-wife but she made it sound as if he had
hit her too. Someone senior in the government helped Yettan avoid jail. She got
married to that guy, converted to their ways, brought up the kid their way. Yettan
lost a wife, a kid and his job. I remember the talk in our village. We were so angry
with that lot in our village even though they were not at all involved. Even
they were angry but they must have understood what Yettan had to do.
After online
classes started, it was back to the schedule. Followed it religiously. Poor
kid. He was very harsh with her at times. She had this habit of leaving her used
clothes carelessly. “Pick it up. Can’t you leave it in the laundry basket? And,
wash your own underwear.” He scolded her in front of me another time. “Don’t
call her by name. Do you call your teachers by name.” That time, the kid
replied. “Mamma used to do all that.” And, he said, “Yes, I know.” She did not
give up, “You want to erase everything of Mamma.” He stared at her for a while
before replying, “Only her irritating ways.” The kid had the good sense not to
retort.
Last week,
there was a scare. The kid told Yettan that the teachers and the school
Principal want to talk to him. “What have you done?” Even Amma and Appa were
very anxious. He continued, “Ask my parents. Not once did my teachers want to
talk to them.” What could the poor kid do?
He took the
video call in the dining room. I was in the kitchen. Amma, Appa and the kid
were in the living room.
“What’s the
problem now? What has she done?” Yettan started without even a polite greeting.
I heard laughter from the other side. Amma later told me what they said. The
kid has topped her class. At first, her teachers thought she was cheating in the
online exams. They tested her individually. They realized she was not cheating.
In fact, she is a class or two ahead of others, they said. They asked her if
she got coaching from elsewhere. She mentioned her father.
“They wanted
Yettan to help the other kids too,” Amma told me the rest too. “I just sit with
her,” Yettan told the teachers. “I’m not suitable for the other kids.” They
understood.
Amma added,
“He has got his smile back.”
#vss365
I met Insp. Shokie in my village. In her first week, we had the Raju-Saju killings. They killed their father in the river and, hanged mother at home. Shokie had little to do.
The whole village knows the who, when, why and where of this heady rush of #traffic in bodies.
During our annual festival, when we allow murders with a mystery, she had her first real case: a tourist's kid in a well.
But then, that's the only type we allow gods to kill. So, the murderer had to be a tourist.
Shokie got to the killer before us. The kid's father. Tourists!
Went for a school reunion yesterday. This year, the theme was murder.
(For our first reunion, many years back, it was love; that's when most of us had the seven-year itch.)
The organizer (a guy we wouldn't even remember if he wasn't the organizer) suggested that it could be a random victim.
That didn't tickle the twist in our tail.
We decided that the organizer should get the axe.
So, there we were. Each one with a bottle of the same poison. But, with no motive, it seemed like an #adventure with no purpose.
That's when we found the most popular guy in our batch dead. Killed with the same poison.
No dearth of motive there.
What a delightful reunion!
#fiction ?
not #vss365 !
(diary entry)
Day 1. Honeymoon. High on #anticipation.
Murders!
11:00: Receptionist.
16:00: Lady at spa.
22:00: Blackjack dealer.
They had such sweet smiles for me.
All 3 garroted. Clueless about G-string killer.
23:55: Wife plays guitar. After we made love.
#vss365
"Security rushed the Minister to the safe room after the blast. He was fine till he got to that #place."
"Get details of that lot."
"Why would they kill him, Insp. Shokie?"
"Who wants him alive? Maybe, he was human after all and took his own life for all that he did."
#vss365
TELL
ME…
(Part
4. The End. Or. The Beginning.)
“Why do you
want to know about…that…now?”
“Why not
now?”
“It’s not
something parents tell their kids. All I got to know was that my parents did
not meet before their wedding and, on their wedding night, my mother slept on
the floor and my father on the bed.”
“That was
then.”
“It feels
like a death-bed talk. And, I’m not ready for that.”
“Don’t joke!”
“Don’t you
have to attend German, or is it French, classes?”
“I will.
After this.”
“But…”
“Look, the
entrance exams are over. In a month or two, I will go to some college. We will be
seeing a lot less of each other. Now might be our last chance for this talk.”
“You don’t
have to make it so morbid.”
“Appa!”
“I still
don’t…”
“Yeah, you
won’t. I am the one who had a loving mother till the age of three. And I can’t
remember any of that. There aren’t even any photos. Then, she died. And I have
had only you since then.”
“Are you complaining?”
“No. What
the…yes, I am complaining. I need more!”
“It’s in my
stories.”
“I know the
fictitious part.”
“Not all of
it.”
“I know that
too.”
“Ok, what do
you want to know?”
“Everything,
the ugly stuff too.”
“A father
can’t tell his daughter the beautiful parts.”
“I will fill
in those parts from your stories.”
“This won’t
end well.”
“Your stories
never do.”
“Where should
I start?”
“How you two
fell in love…”
“If ours had
been love at first sight, I could have finished this off before you can say
cuckoo.”
“It wasn’t?
In all your stories…”
“For two
years, or was it three, we remained strangers who did not even bother to be
acquaintances. I used to admire her walk. Even when we were put in the same
office, we did not talk to each other for months. It might not be right to
generalize but that might be true for a lot of relationships that develop into
something more substantial. A few might find their one in an instant. For
others, circumstances have to fit. It might be a pointless exercise to analyse
tropes about falling in love. But one has to wonder if love at first sight or
enemy to friend to love seems a bit too convenient.”
“Don’t go
into literary criticism.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Were you…did
you have someone else then?”
“I was too
poor even to have friends.”
“Nice excuse.
Weren’t you poor even when you got to know her?”
“You don’t
have to be Sherlock spotting the faults.”
“You don’t
have to dodge inconvenient stuff.”
“Not
inconvenient…just embarrassing.”
“Go on.”
“There were a
few I liked. But, without scope.”
“Without
scope?”
“No future.”
“Problems
with them?”
“Not really.
Lovely girls. They were great friends. With one, I would have had to migrate.
With another, I would have had to…”
“You are
lying.”
“No, I swear.
They were lovely girls with some inconvenience or other.”
“That might
be true.”
“And, they were
not interested.”
“But…you are
lying about your indifference towards them.”
“Indifference?
Never that. Disinterest, maybe.”
“Out with it.”
“As I said
before, there are stuff a father can’t discuss with his daughter.”
“There was no
sex between you and those girls.”
“Saraswathi!”
“Don’t try
the prude act with me, Mr. Father.”
“I should
have disowned you long back.”
“Sometimes, I
feel like a fatherless child…”
“That’s my
story, definitely not yours.”
“That story I
know. Stick to this one. So, am I right?”
“Yes. How did
you guess?”
“In all your
stories, you…”
“Me?”
“The guy who
is you…it’s either Jekyll or Hyde in a sexual way. Highly oversexed or
pathetically impotent.”
“So?”
“By that
stage of your life, you must have realized that reality about yourself.”
“What
reality?”
“You won’t
give too much of your time to a lady who does not interest you sexually.”
“You make me
sound like a pervert.”
“Don’t worry,
I too am like that.”
“Girl, have
you done something I should know about?”
“No, Appa. I have
your other problem too.”
“My other
problem?”
“Oversexed
you might be but you don’t believe in casual sex.”
“Oh, I do!
It’s the other party’s fault.”
“Yeah,
yeah…don’t digress.”
“You did.”
“I know. It
was a note to myself. So, you were a moping loner. How about her?”
“When I got
to know her…of her…when I joined that Institute, she had a boyfriend. Then, a
year or two later, she got married.”
“To that
boyfriend?”
“No, to
another…arranged.”
“Why?”
“The
boyfriend wasn’t ready, I guess. Idiot!”
“So, she was
married when you…? It’s in one of your stories.”
“In that, she
is married and I have a partner.”
“A double
cheat for literary effect.”
“We were not
cheating.”
“Oh, come
on.”
“No, really.
She wanted to get out of the terrible marriage.”
“It’s cheating
if you have sex with another even if one’s marriage is at that stage.”
“We did not
have sex then. You were not born then.”
“I don’t buy
that platonic crap.”
“It wasn’t
platonic.”
“Now, you are
confusing.”
“We expressed
our interest. We did not act on it then. That’s all.”
“When was
this?”
“Late
nineties.”
“Ah, the
Clinton years! Now I get it.”
“Don’t be
crude.”
“It’s not
crude. You hiding stuff is just pathetic.”
“I’m not
hiding. It’s just difficult. Come on, give me a break, will you?”
“Ok. Did you
fall in love with her during the crying scene?”
“What crying
scene?”
“The one you
keep repeating in your stories. You finding her crying in office and you like
an idiot telling her that others might misconstrue the situation.”
“That was
just funny me trying to be funny.”
“Did she
actually smile when you said that?”
“She laughed.
She was a sweet lady. Not at all like her daughter.”
“So, was it
then you fell in love?”
“Hey
Torquemada, don’t rush things.”
“Then, when?”
“I don’t
know.”
“You don’t
know?”
“Even on her
birthday, when I gave her a gift and a poem for the first time, I am not sure
we were in love with each other. We were close.”
“Close?”
“Yes, very close.
I knew all about her troubles. We talked about everything. Sex and all. We
could have been just best friends even then. To tell you the truth, I just
don’t remember.”
“You are
lying.”
“No, my kid,
I am not. The timeline is a bit fuzzy. Someone must have made us realize that
we should talk to each other when we occupied the same office, when it was just
us in that room mostly. I was just her friend for some time, a long time.
Gradually, I became the best friend or confidante trying to make her marriage
work. Then, I stopped playing devil’s advocate and became the best friend forever
who took her problems very seriously. We became lovers…without the…”
“Just two
people together due to circumstances and need…no fireworks?”
“Well…”
“See…you are
hiding…”
“We did not
hide our lust for each other. That’s all I can say about that.”
“Ok, I will
fill in those blanks with stuff from your stories. The groping in public
places, the stuff in private…”
“Don’t make
it too risqué.”
“Wasn’t it?
Bet there were many blue-ball moments.”
“Girl!”
“Don’t girl
me. When you can’t be open. Fine, what happened then?”
“She
divorced, we lived together, you happened, she died. End of story.”
“Oh no, you
don’t get to finish it off that easily.”
“That’s all
there was to it. Not really short story stuff with an interesting denouement.”
“I happened.”
“I agree
that’s a passable climax.”
“I want more
than that summary.”
“I would give
you more if I could remember the details…wait…”
“What?”
“So, that’s
why you want to know now?”
“Why?”
“You think I
am forgetting it all. That I’m losing it.”
“It’s a risk
for anyone. Even me.”
“Have I
forgotten other stuff…other important stuff?”
“I don’t
know, Appa. You are increasingly…”
“Forgetful?”
“By choice.
That’s my problem.”
“Ah.”
“Yes, ah!”
“It’s just
how it is. Even back then, I wasn’t good with dates. The day we kissed, the day
she left. Even then, the events got mixed up in my head. It could be because of
my writing. I mix-n-match the past for a better plot.”
“Is it just that?”
“I don’t
know. Freud or Jung might say there’s something else at play. Guilt. Or
whatever.”
“Guilt?”
“Imagine her
situation. She was under a lot of stress when I entered her life.”
“Every girl’s
life.”
“Could be.”
“Why should
you feel guilty about that? You were there for her.”
“Hmmm. I
was.”
“Come on,
Appa.”
“We were…I
was passionate. Yeah, I could be that. Don’t look so surprised. At times, we
were just happy to hold each other. To sleep together. It’s the other stuff. I
didn’t force anything on her. But can anyone under such stress be capable of
giving consent with proper thought?”
“That way, no
consent is legit.”
“But…”
“Don’t think
too much about that. I’m sure she wanted to be with you, do whatever you two
did.”
“Thanks.”
“But…something
else happened. Something you are not telling me.”
“Nothing,
really.”
“Why didn’t
you two get married?”
“She had a
job. I didn’t. Still doing the postdoctoral circuit. Marriage did not seem
important.”
“Why was she
erased after her death?”
“She was not
erased. Never will be. I had to focus on you. With any reminder of her, I would
have faltered.”
“In all your
stories, she is the dead one who is never dead.”
“Yes, she
will be that way. Always.”
“Is she
dead?”
“Of course.
What a question!”
“You are
lying.”
“I am not…”
“Think twice
before lying.”
“Is that a
threat?”
“Yes.”
“But…why?”
“I don’t
know. I just know you are lying.”
“I…”
“Appa!”
“Fu…”
“We don’t use
such words in this house.”
“That’s my
line, lady.”
“Well? Are
you going to tell me or not?”
“Why do you
have to be like me in such situations and not like her?”
“Don’t even
try evading.”
“Oh God…”
“That bad?”
“I think this
is the end of a beautiful friendship.”
“Please…no
Casablanca…now…”
“She is not dead.”
“What?”
“She is not
dead.”
“You are
joking, right?”
“Huh?”
“Appa…”
“She left us
when you were three.”
“Left…?”
“Went abroad.”
“Didn’t she
like having me?”
“Don’t ever
think that.”
“Then, what?”
“She loved
you a lot. She loved me too. But…that does not make up one’s life, does it? You
have seen me when I can’t write.”
“You are
miserable then.”
“Yes, my dear
Saraswathi. She was good at her job. Very good. She had lots to do in that
field. She would have been wasted out here.”
“You could have
gone with her.”
“I didn’t
want to.”
“Not even for
me?”
“Not even for
you.”
“You were
both selfish. Why didn’t she take me?”
“Then, I
would have had to go with her.”
“So, stay
here with you and me and screw her career. Or, take me and drag you along
against your wish. Or, leave me with you and chase a career.”
“Sums it up.”
“And you
still love her?”
“Not in the
old way. Anyway, now, it’s all water under the bridge. She is still the best
woman I knew…”
“Best, my
foot! Left a kid for a career?”
“Don’t be an
idiot, Saraswathi.”
“Me idiot?
Left motherless and I am the idiot?”
“Idiot for
spouting nonsense.”
“Really?”
“Family,
parenting, dreams…life is complicated. Don’t apply rules.”
“But there
should be.”
“Yes, we
followed one rule. You were and are our top priority. She knew I would be there
for you. And I knew she would be there for you if I could not be there. But…”
“But?”
“But we have
our lives too. We accepted the best compromise. For you. You may not agree.
Now.”
“Will she
accept me now?”
“Ah!”
“Ah what?”
“She has…a
family.”
“Wow, she’s
only getting better.”
“What did you
expect? Yes, she went there. Yes, she is a wonderful lady. Yes, she was lucky
to meet the right guy there. Yes, she has kids with him. Yes, if you go to her
now, she will love you and fit you in.”
“Without
you.”
“I will be
here for you.”
“Why didn’t
she want to be a part of my life after going abroad?”
“She wanted
to. I didn’t think it was a good idea. I wanted you to have a steady life. I
knew we would have our separate lives. She with some new man, new family. Me
with someone.”
“But, you
never…”
“My problem.”
“Didn’t find
the right girl for Hyde?”
“Jekyll
probably decides everything now.”
“Not because
of me?”
“Never.”
“Liar.”
“Any other
lies you need to know?”
“This will do
for now.”
“Good.”
“Old man, I
think this is the start of a beautiful friendship.”
“Bah!
Casablanca sounds better from me.”
“Bah!”
Part 3: https://justoneavatar.blogspot.com/2022/06/tell-me-part-3.html
Part 2: https://justoneavatar.blogspot.com/2022/05/tell-mepart-2.html
Part 1: https://justoneavatar.blogspot.com/2022/05/tell-me-part-1.html
