Mumbai Musings.........

2008-05-09T00:50:00.000-07:00

"Choose."

He pointed towards the two keys on his palm.

"Wow! I got a choice here?"

"You always have."

"Not always I think. Sometimes you left me with no choice."

"Maybe not the ones 'you' wanted but certainly you had choices. You sometimes have to choose using your conscience you know?"

"Yeah, never made good use of that thing"

"You can, now."

"Isn't it too late now?"

"Its never too late for a new beginning. Choose wisely. As I told, use your conscience."

"hmmmmmm.....lemme see if its still usable."

He smiled.
I was impressed I actually made him smile. Considering my reputation back in Brooklyn where I lived till few moments back, I never thought he would ever see me.

"Take your time. I'm not too busy you see"

"What? I always thought you would be busy like hell. Everyone in my gang except Johnny-four-fingers say you control everyone and everything."

"Yeah, thats what everyone down there thinks. Until they meet me."

"I can't believe that idiot Johnny was right after all."

"He came close to me some years back. He was stabbed in the chest by someone I think."

"Yeah, and also lost his finger in that fight. We killed that attacker son-of-a-bitch though. Was from a rival gang."

"I know. Good that you remember those things."

"Its hard to forget actually."

"Yeah, its meant to be that way. Hope you understand why."

"Yes, I do now. Makes the choice easy."

He smiled understandingly.

I picked the key marked 'Hell' and walked towards the Gate.

2008-05-07T05:14:00.000-07:00

Ethics of a Scoundrel

It was drizzling but we didn't care. My friend Arun was to return back home the next day and he wanted to loot the city for gifts for his family. I having been staying in Mumbai for quiet some time, felt morally obliged to assist him in the noble venture .To be frank, I hate shopping. So, to make it a little interesting and adventurous, we decided to go to a stolen-goods market. Now, the particular market we targeted had a reputation of being the haven for thieves and hence treasure hunters like us flocked it hoping to find cheap deals. You'll find practically everything there, from cheap contraband wristwatches to stolen imported cars and all you need to have is a razor sharp tongue and a pair of hard-to-squeeze balls to get lucky. And we were very sure we possessed both the required organs. Personally I felt a pair of horses and cowboy hats would be appropriate for the occasion but this being no wild west, we hired a rickshaw and left for the Abdul Rehman Road market.

Rain is the eternal spoilsport in any adventure that is not part of a Hollywood movie or a NGC documentary on the great anacondas. And by the time we reached the market it was literally pouring and the sky had turned dark. The market,contrary to my over-the-top imagination, was no secret dockyard market with shady characters in long overcoats and over-sized hats moving in shadows. It looked like any other marketplace in Mumbai - small brightly lit shops with goods overflowing onto the roads, roadside vendors in their makeshift tents with their wares strewn vulgarly in front, the incessant sound of shoes splashing the murky pothole water, slippers clapping against the toes, pattering of the rain drops on the plastic tents of the vendors, out of control rickshaws zigzagging between the narrowest of gaps defying all laws of motion, street urchins dancing in the rains and ghostly streams of steam from the tea stalls rising up into the air. Many of the shops had already closed for the day and the remaining ones were gathering their wares in preparation of closing down. So we quickly got into the act, rolled up our pants and prowled the market.

After having covered almost half of the market in an hour and a half ,we had in our bags a pair of leather belts,a pair of shoes,some junkie bracelets and a cool leather pouch and were lighter by a thousand rupees.So much for our loot. Realizing that this was simply not going our way, we decided to make a hasty retreat and maybe come back the next day morning. The lanes were pretty much deserted by now and some were already taken over by the overzealous street dogs. Completely drenched,tired and having lost all the excitement of our supposedly looting spree, we walked slowly down the maze of lanes in search of a rickshaw.

He was standing there under the roof of a closed shop when we walked past him. Except for the part of his face lit by the cigarette, he was just a shadow. His blood shot eyes were staring at us. I had heard a fair deal of stories about this place and was quick to realize that we are now marked. So I paced up and Arun taking the cue, followed me. We walked briskly through one lane to another and then to the other without reaching anywhere. After half an hour walking in the limbo we stopped to take stock of the situation. As we sat on the stairs of a closed shop, a frail voice came from somewhere.

Voice : You guys want a mobile phone?

I looked all around and found no one.

Voice : I am here.

From the shadows of the adjoining walls emerged the same guy we were running from.

He was a small frail guy with a sunken face. There was nothing suspicious in him except for the bloodshot eyes. His clothes were old and ragged. The coat was over-sized, shoes muddy and he smelt like dead mice.The cigarette dangled carelessly from the side of his lips and little puffs of smoke escaped into the air at random intervals. He sat down beside us on the stairs. His vulnerable appearance gave me the confidence to speak.

I : What do you want?

He : Nothing.You wanna have a nice mobile phone?

I : We don't need no mobile phone. Leave us alone.

He : I'll give you cheap. Its good. Take a look at it.

Arun : "We don't wanna look at anything. We are getting late. I have a train to catch tomorrow. Lets leave now.

I : "Yeah we are late already and its raining. We don't have time.

He : Make some time guys otherwise you will regret it.

Arun : Regret? Why should we regret? Are you threatening us?

I : We will look at it sometime else. We live nearby and come down here regularly.

He : But I won't be around.

I : Sorry but maybe some other time. We're in a hurry now. Bye.

Arun : Yeah, bye.

And we rose to leave.

He : Whats the harm in having a look at it? If you don't like it, no problem. Here it is.

He brought out a packet from his coat pocket. Carefully he removed the rubber bands wrapped around the yellow packet and opened the packet.

He : See this is the latest mobile, the best in the market.

The mobile set indeed looked one of the latest high-end stuff. And it looked brand new too.

He : Isn't it nice ? You can take photos,call your friends, video record also. This is I say the best. You should have it.

I : Yeah it looks good. But why you selling it?

Arun : 'Is it stolen or something?

He : Yes I stole it today. Don't ask from where. I'll give this away to you real cheap. I need money to buy drinks.

That explained everything. Here is a drunkard who steals things and sells for the price of a few drinks. I smelt an opportunity here. Nevertheless, I was apprehensive about standing in a lonely lane and talking to a thief. Maybe he was a trickster, maybe the police is waiting around the corner waiting to catch us in the act or maybe this junkie's friends are hiding somewhere to loot us. So, I decided not to get tempted and make a run.

I : Its nice stuff alright but we don't have any money with us right now. Maybe sometime later we will buy it from you.

He : I don't steal things daily, at least not such high-end stuff . You won't even get this in the showrooms . Today is your lucky day. Had it not been raining, I would have auctioned it for any price I like. Don't think, take it . Its damn cheap.

Arun : How much is it ?

He : Only three grands. Its nothing.The market price is some twenty grands.

My eyes gleamed hearing the price. It was indeed dirt cheap. The first instinct was to hand him the three grands and run away with the mobile. But the tales of the tricksters quickly brought me to senses and I played hard.

I : Yeah its cheap.And I might want to buy it but we don't have that much cash upon us right now. We will come back tomorrow.

He : Come on I told you already I won't be here tomorrow. And someone else might buy it.

I : Then sell it to that someone.Why are you dogging us anyway ?

He : Why are you being angry? Okay, gimme two grands and you'll have it. It can't get any better than this. I will show you what nice photos it takes.

He held the mobile in front of my face and clicked.

He : One of your friend too.

Then he took a snap of my friend's face. We took the mobile in our hands and watched the pictures. The pictures were of very good quality and even with such poor lighting the photos were amazingly clear. I was hooked and even more was Arun. I could sense his excitement by the way he was continuously nudging and pinching my hands. He had lost his mobile phone in the local train such a few days back and this offer must have been like god-sent for him.

I : Okay this looks good but the price is still out of our budget. We can only pay one grand for this.

The junkie smirked and placed the mobile phone in the packet. Then carefully tied it with the rubber band and put it back in his dirty coat pocket.

He : You simply wasted my time. You want a twenty grands worth mobile for a single grand. Either you are an idiot or you think I am one. Good bye.

And he walked away.

Arun dragged me to a corner and spoke under clenched lips.

Arun : What the heck are you doing? Have you lost your senses? This is the deal of a lifetime. A twenty grand worth mobile for two grands. Can you believe it ?

I : But I have only five hundred bucks with me now. Do you have the rest fifteen hundred ?

Arun : Shit, I have only eleven hundred left with me. Make him agree for fifteen hundred so that we will have one hundred left to get back to the hotel.

I : Okay, lemme try. Lets call him back.

So we walked fast in the direction he had gone and found him standing near a half closed shop buying something. He saw us and signaled to stay at the other side of the road. He lighted a cigarette, surveyed the surroundings and then signaled with his eyes to follow him. We followed him to a nearby alley and stood in the dark.

I : Look, this is our final offer. We have total sixteen hundred and out of it we need one hundred to get back to the hotel. So we can only pay you fifteen hundred. That's it.

He thought it over and took a long sigh.

He : Okay done. Because you look like good guys I'll give it to you for fifteen hundred. But remember this is total loss for me. I'm giving it just out of good will.

Arun : Yeah we appreciate it very much. You are a good guy. Thank you very much.

He : That's okay. But be very careful and hide the packet in your socks or somewhere. Its dangerous here you know. Police,thugs,thieves all prowl these lanes.

He took the packet out of his pocket and stuffed it into Arun's pant pocket quickly. Now my heart was pounding and hands had become stone cold. I could see Arun sweating profusely. I fumbled into my pockets and took out my wallet.

I : Here....here, have this five hundred.

He : Five hundred ? I thought we talked something about fifteen hundred, isn't it ?

Arun : Yeah yeah wait. I'm giving the rest. Wait.

Arun groped for his wallet for what seemed like hours and finally paid the amount.

Arun : Here it is. Okay ?

He : Okay. You are damn lucky guys. Be careful and get away as quick as possible. Good bye now.

I : Yeah yeah, good bye. Lets go Arun.

We turned around and were about to walk when the junkie called again.

He : Hey here take this hundred bucks. I maybe a thief but I've a heart and you guys are good fellows. Take it. You might need it.

He handed over a hundred bucks note to me and smiled understandingly. I could not but feel a strange sense of gratitude towards the junkie.

I : Thank you. Thank you so much.

Arun : Yeah you are a good guy. Thank you.

So, Arun and me turned around and tried walking as fast as what we thought will be necessary given the gravity of the situation and also not look suspicious to anyone. We didn't look back at all.

I : Hey Arun, put that packet in your socks dude. Remember what he had said ?

Arun : Oh yes I remember. Lets find a lonely spot quickly.

We stopped at a dark corner and Arun stuffed the packet into his socks. It bulged out oddly but our reasoning was it being dark and raining no one will notice. And then we continued towards the main road. All the while we kept scanning the surroundings for any suspicious activity like someone following us or some cop watching us or anything of that sort. Thankfully nothing like that happened and we reached the semi-deserted main road soon.

We hailed the next available rickshaw and jumped into it. Our heart was still pounding and it took some time to settle down. The feeling of fear and apprehension having died down, now the sense of achievement grew upon us. We had managed to get a twenty grands mobile phone for almost free. This is what you call a real loot. Again I felt a pair of horses and cowboy hats would be appropriate for the occasion. The last time I had this kind of feeling was when I had came first in the class exams without having studied anything. You get a feeling of having 'it' in you. Your confidence boosts up and ego inflates like a balloon. I could well imagine the amazement on my friends' faces when I'll narrate the whole incident to them. Maybe I'll write a story about it.

I looked at Arun who sat beside me. We had not exchanged a single word for almost the ten minutes we got into the rickshaw. He was recovering from the experience.

I : You alright buddy ?

Arun : Yeah.....I'm fine. Phew.That was cool dude. Now I realize why people call Mumbai as the land of oppurtunities. If you got the balls to take risk, you can get anything here. This is so damn cool.

I : Yeah and we did it.

Arun : Yes...Yes....Yes...

Arun was now screaming in ecstasy.

I : Okay...okay. Cool down now. Lets have a look at our loot buddy.

Arun : Oh yeah. How can I forget that? My new mobile phone. Yuppie.

He rolled up his pant,extracted the yellow packet and held it high like some symbol of victory. After some more dramatics, he placed the packet on his lap and unwrapped the rubber bands slowly like he was performing some tantric ritual. Then he held up the packet in front of both of us and with a sudden exaggerated movement of his hand, took off the lid.

For the next five minutes which seemed like eternity, none of us spoke a single word. I could hear neither the sound of the rickshaw engine nor the pattering of the raindrops on the rickshaw hood. I could hear nothing except for Arun's regular deep sighs followed by mine own. We were communicating through sighs. Somehow sigh language seemed to be the only appropriate form of communication at that time.

In between both of us lay the yellow packet with a piece of soap cut in the shape of a mobile phone placed neatly in it.

Arun : Why did he give us back the hundred bucks ?

I : Ethics I guess.

Arun : Yeah, Ethics of a scoundrel.

2008-05-07T05:13:00.000-07:00

EXT. A DESOLATE GRAVEYARD KIND OF PLACE --- NIGHT

We open on a hazy dark screen (like what u see when u close your eyes)

V.O (slow)

You know you are dead meat ........

The screen slowly opens from the middle (like opening the eye).

The hole of a gun stares at the screen up and close.

V.O (normal)

...when you have a 8mm German made semi-automatic handgun pointed between your eyes

The hole of the gun trembles.

V.O(normal)

especially when ......

The camera shifts focus from the hole of the gun to little up, towards the face of the man holding the gun.

V.O(normal)

.....the man pointing the gun is a blood thirsty maniac incapable of any human emotions

The camera focuses on the face of the maniac. The face is of a crazed man with bloodshot and evil eyes. His hair is dishovelled. Splattering of blood cover his heavily scarred face.

The background (which is out of focus) is dark and gloomy. We are not sure if its a graveyard but it looks like that. Maybe a lone tree in the background.

V.O(normal)

You know you cannot expect any mercy. Especially when.......

The camera shifts focus from the maniac's face towards the background. The background is desolate and bleak.

Just behind the maniac lay three corpses in pools of blood.

One of the corpses has a spear (or maybe a piece of log) dug into it.

V.O(normal)

......he's just shot two and speared one of your friends in cold blood.

The camera focuses back to the hole of the gun now trembling furiously. We anticipate some activity now.

V.O (faster than normal)

You know you are dead meat. Waiting for it to come, hoping it comes soon. The agony is unbearable.

You know you are dead meat.

CUT TO C.U OF MANIAC

He looks even more crazed now. Sweat and blood trickling down.

Maniac(crazed)

You are deadddddddddddd.

CUT TO E.C.U OF THE VICTIM's FACE

The first time we see the face of the victim. He is a teenager, spiked hair

His face is sweaty and soiled. He is terrified out of his wits. His whole face is trembling.

He closes his eyes in anticipation of the climax .

Sound of the trigger being pressed. A soft click. No gunshot sound. Silence.

V.O (faster than normal)

Unless he runs out of bullets.

The Victim opens his eyes. His expression is of bewilderment and terror. He is sweating profusely.

CUT TO C.U OF MANIAC

The maniac is bewildered. His eyes are wide and expression angry.

Maniac(crazed and angry)

Arghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

CUT TO PERSPECTIVE OF THE VICTIM. C.U OF GUN's HOLE

The camera moves unsteadily back away from the gun.

V.O(excited )

and .........

The whole of the maniac comes in the frame.

He is standing with the empty gun still pointed and screaming towards the sky in frustration and anger.

He has only one leg.

Maniac(crazed and angry) (voice in background)

Arghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

V.O (excitement growing) (foreground voice)

....he has only one leg.

You know you will live now. You are saved.

CUT TO SIDE VIEW

We see the maniac (still pointing the gun and screaming) and a victim moving back on all fours from the maniac.

All we can hear is the agonizing scream of the maniac.

The young man crawls a few steps back and turns around.

CUT TO FRONT VIEW

The victim turns towards us, and runs past us. The maniac in background screaming.

CUT TO PERSPECTIVE OF MANIAC (over his shoulder)

The victim is running away.

Maniac(crazed and angry)(voice in background)

Arghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

V.O

You know you are saved.

You just have to run as fast as you can, like you have never ran before.

And keep running.....

CUT TO FRONT VIEW

The camera moves fast backwards in front of the victim.

He is running wildly towards the camera heaving and panting. And smiling at his luck.

Then he starts laughing at himself, unable to believe his luck.

His expression is somewhat confused – terror ,relief, amazed, fear , sometimes happy. Tears roll down his eyes.

V.O

...keep running.....keep running......keep running....keep running...keep ruuuuuu.....

(voice trailing off )

Suddenly the head of a spear pops out from the chest of the runner and stops close to the camera. E.C.U of spear's head.

CUT TO FRONT VIEW

The victim grinds to a halt and looks down in amazement towards his chest.

He sees the spear and the streams of blood oozing out. The expression changes to agony but not for long.

He falls down on his knees first and then to his side and is died.

CUT TO E.C.U OF VICTIM's FACE

His eyes close slowly. The expression of agony fades and his face relaxes as he dies.

V.O

At least you didn't die a hopeless death.

The screen goes blank slowly .

The only voice we can hear is the unhumanly laugh of the maniac fading off.

Of Women and Darkness

2007-04-03T05:15:00.000-07:00

One of my first stories and the second one I posted on spoiledink.com, 'Of Women and Darkeness' taught me one of the fundamental things about writing - choose your audience as carefully as you choose your words. This story got me lots of brickbats from readers particularly from the fairer sex. And I hastily removed the story from the site. But one of those people who really matter to me and my writing appreciated the story and offered me invaluable advice.

I had written the story intending it to be humorous and satirical about the relationship between men and women. But maybe my narration style was wrong for which people started taking it seriously. Anyway, here it is.

Of Women and Darkness

Women have better reading habits than men, so I have no fear of invoking their godforsaken wrath when I write in this story that all women are very timid in heart. They are brave, sometimes exemplarily brave, in most circumstances their only weapon being their tongue. The showers of missiles that bombard the hapless ones have made the wide-chested of men to run for cover with all his fingers in his ears. While men run home to get their pistols, women bring to excellent use a lethal blend of foul language (why foul if it saves your life? ) and any throw-able object ( especially utensils ). And I can bring to you a hundred men , with their faces covered (men are so conscious of their self-respect, you know ) who will testify that such deadly warfare does exist . One daily newspaper reported that according to the researchers of Philadelphia University, women have become 20% more bolder than men. It reported that studies conducted on about a thousand cases of deaths caused in encounters with women reveal that almost 80% of the deaths are due to excessive loss of dignity and high degree of shame. Following this report, exclusively for-men security agencies mushroomed all over the country, most of them run by women ( evil begets evil, they say ). Men meowed in protest against the growing atrocities of the womenfolk on them. Husbands secretly studied "Nirlep Fry-pans Violent User's Manual" while their wives slept. Seminars, brainstorming sessions, debates, prayer meetings followed but not a single lifesaving solution emerged. How not to be ashamed? How to kill shame? (Who could dare to think of controlling women? )

At last the solution came from the dense jungles of Africa. A team of entomologists (they study bugs ) had published a research paper about their discovery of a fascinating species of insects. Now, these insects had a peculiar behavior. They remained holed up in tree trunks as long as daylight prevailed and the ones who ventured out were often eaten up by other insects. But when night falls, they storm out of their holes and attack every insect big or small with alarming ferocity ( one of the entomologists has a photograph of the insects munching at his index finger to prove this ). The strange thing is that these insects have perfect vision during daytime but they offer no resistance to their attackers while at night, they have only partial vision still they attack with vengeance. The entomologists could offer no rational explanation for this behavior. Now, no one knows who, but some henpecked genius gentleman having read this paper in the time he spared from reading the "Nirlep ....." books, came out with a brilliant plan. It is said that he ran naked on the road shouting "Eureka, eureka". Geniuses are of course entitled to such acts as this shows that they are too passionately engrossed in attaining enlightenment to care about such lowly decencies as dressing. He hastily called a large press conference and declared himself 'The Savior'. Before the blinding flashes of cameras and a large bouquet of microphones, he revealed his scheme, a scheme which only a real man could make.

"Friends, and fellow sufferers. You are at this moment witness to a historic event. This moment will be recorded in golden letters in the history of the freedom struggle of men as the ' end of female domination '. Yes, you've heard it right - the end of the evil era. We are from this moment about to wage the biggest war in the history of mankind, not against the tyranny of any ruler, not against any foreign invader, nor against any alien life form but against women. Yes, you heard it right and if you all stop shuddering and have finished wetting your pants, I'll proceed to tell you how."

"Friends, God has bestowed us with biological advantages over women in terms of physical strenght, speed and power. We can fight tigers, plunge from mountains, swim with the sharks, tame the wildest of lions and not even scream when encounter a cockroach. So what is that women have that turns us into cows ( with due respect to cows ) in front of them? Is it that they have any superior strenght? Do they possess any magical powers? Or do they spew fire when they abuse us? No, no, no. They have nothing in them that drags us down on our knees and act like wet kittens. On the contrary, it is because they have nothing in them that makes us act as we do. "

"Ages back, when men were really men ( unlike us ) and women were really women ( like us ), women were looked upon as the vulnerable class. Our forefathers took pride in their masculinity and out of sheer machismo, decided that women are to be protected and cuddled and bedded. Men fought wars to protect even a single woman ( remember Troy? ) and branded it their 'dharma'. They never treated women as equals. Women were objects of desire, of affection, of love and of course lust. Abusing or hitting a woman was the unmanliest of acts and unpardonable, after all they are not even strong enough to defend themselves. They were to be shielded against anything that may spoil their fair skin. From birth till death, they were to be defended. As a daughter - her virginity, as wife - her femininity and as mother - her pride had to be defended. While men were busy killing themselves in the process of defending their better-halves, the womenfolks were busy in their kitty parties and pet shows. It thus became the unwritten law of mankind that there is nothing more shameful and sinful than treating a woman badly. A man who raises his hand on a woman even in his sleep should commit suicide. The only pain a woman may be inflicted upon is by way of sexual intercourse ( Thank God ! ) and when she gives birth to her baby. This prejudicial and partisan law became the deadliest weapon of femininity. Whatever she did, however ghastly crime she committed, nothing was enough to justify a slap on her back. She used her shield of vulnerability to great effect, in fact to such effect that gradually she began brandishing it like a sword, cutting down male ego. Men, in order to prove that they are real men, suffered every pain, every abuse, every slap inflicted upon them without a whimper in protest."

"History however tells us of rare instances when a man unable to control his 'unmanly' instincts, somehow hit his tormenting womenfolk. Such acts never go unnoticed even if they happen in the middle of the Indian ocean because the cries of a suffering woman travel far and loud. The hapless man often dies of swallowing his own tongue or of a heart attack and the ones who mismanage to live, eventually die like an ostracized sick dog, looked down upon by men and abused by women. Women make sure these instances were well chronicled in the history books and these history books are learnt by heart by generation after generation of schoolboys while their female classmates took classes in the secret arts of women empowerment."

"And thus, here we are toady where we are. All that I've said till now is something that we all know, often told by our fathers on their deathbeds when they are damn sure they are going to die anyway. We know why we are like this but do not know how to overcome this. No my friends, I am not going to suggest anything that will go against our manhood, our supreme male ego. If I were to do so, there would cease to be any difference between me and my wife. The essence of a man lies in his blind belief in the concept of his manhood - however absurd or outright foolish it actually it might be. The glorious tradition tradition passed down by our forefathers has to be carried on our able shoulders till death. "

"But friends, after every day comes the night. After light, darkness prevails. and darkness brings with it the advantage of anonymity, of invisibility. Darkness will be the weapon with which we will vanquish our enemies. Shame is defeated when there's no one to be ashamed of. Think my friends think - In a dark alley you attack a woman brutally, all the while abusing her in the choicest of foul words. you bite her and pull her hair apart, and and after doing all that you just run away to your home knowing happily that nobody has seen you. The poor woman won't know who hit her. All the people who rush to her help wouldn't know who they should be ashamed of. Thus, shame is conquered, conquered at last. And then they will fear us, as we fear them. Darkness will be our weapon and as soon as the sun goes down, every man well hidden in the dark will pounce upon the woman nearest to him. God has leveled the playing field for us. Rise O Men. Rise "

After a second or two of stunned silence, the crowd erupted in a wave of claps. Everyone was clapping wildly. Photographers, being men first, forgot to shoot and were banging their cameras on their heads out of joy. Some weak ones choked their heart in happiness. And almost all of them couldn't believe that they were indeed going to be free of their suffering.

The proof of the pudding, they say, is in the eating and so very truly. As the crowd was cheering wildly and reveling in its new-found formula for 'revenge', a policewoman entered the press conference hall. And before you could blink your eyes, a most dramatic transformation occurred to the men. From the wild dancing vikings, they suddenly became the blinking and purring kittens they originally were. As the policewoman swaggered down towards the podium, where the so called 'Savior' was hiding under the table, the crowd fell upon themselves to make way for the lady. She looked at each face as she passed them with a I-dare-you look, chewing her gum casually, her eyebrows held high and the baton hanging from her unshapely hips. Everyone was looking at his own shoes as if shoes were the sexiest objects God has created.

When she reached the middle of the crowd, she looked around for a suitable victim and decided upon a young man at least twice her weight and a good two feet above her. She nonchalantly took him by his collar and using all her might tried to drag him towards her. Sensing that she was not strong enough to pull him, the young man slackened himself up and obediently fell on his knees like a sack of potatoes. The policewoman pleased at this victory-of-sorts renewed her vigor and kicked him heavily.

"So, what are you worms doing here ", she screamed at the crowd. "I will have you all skinned and smoked, you lousy dogs. You good-for-nothings, hiding from your wives here. Look at you all wet pussies standing like gentlemen. Gentlemen, my foot. and what was all that cheering about? Someone managed not to piss in his pants when his wife hit him today ? Is that what you were celebrating, you wriggles. Who was on that goddamn stage ? Come on tell me, you @*^#$@#$%$*." She kicked the young man again and just as he was going to say something, a miracle happened - the lights went off. The whole place was plunged into darkness. Time stood still for a moment or two, pitch darkness mixed with pin-drop silence.

Then she screamed again, " You assholes make way for me. You good-for-nothings were not dim enough that this darkness has made you dimmer. "

"You bitch. Stop your filthy mouth", a booming voice came from across the room. Silence.

"Who's that bastard? I'll cut off your balls. Come here you dog.", the policewoman screamed and kicked into the crowd in direction of the voice. She couldn't make out a single face in the crowd.

" Shut up, you unshapely bitch. He,he,he what are you gonna do to me ? Cut my balls off ? OK, come, come. He,he,he", a young voice came from near her. The policewoman was beginning to feel panic, this was the first time in her life she was being called names by any man. She had never imagined this. The experience was alien to her. In her panic she began calling names and abusing all the men.

"Lets teach her a lesson boys. Today we will show her what she gets for challenging a man. We will set an example for others to follow. Come on men, lets do it".

The whole place went up in a roar of "Attack" and other war cries. The whole crowd of worthy men pounced upon the policewoman. They bit her hands, pulled her hair apart, tweaked her nose, spat on her and pulled her ears. They did all that a man in the peak of his wrath could do. The whole place was in absolute chaos. The policewoman's frantic cries for help mingled with shouts of "hurray" and "yahoo" filled the place. The one-to-many battle continued for what seemed like eternity and ended when the lights came back. Unwarned and unprepared, the whole crowd appeared like a herd of deers under the spotlights of the hunter's jeep. Everyone squinted. The transformation of the crowd was dramatic and effortless - no more hurrays or yahoos, they became the innocent kittens they were the pre-dark period. You could swear not a single man was out of his place - they all stood as they had before the lights had gone. The same look on their face, the same fear in their eyes. The policewoman was lying on the floor in a pool of urine and saliva. Tufts of her hair were flying around her and her uniform was torn in places leaving her practically naked. her face was swollen and red. Apart from this she now possessed a black eye, a dripping nose, two broken teeth, a pair of fingernail scratch that ran all over her arms and a stinking sock in her pocket. She lay there crying for help and didn't realize that the crowd had retreated. It wasn't till a gentleman offered her his jacket and said politely, "Madam, please madam don't cry. You cover yourself up with this jacket and we will take you to your home." that she stopped wailing, looked up in shock and fled the place on all her four limbs.

Later, she swore that it wasn't the beatings she took that was most horrible, it was the look on the faces of the men that was more horrible. They had this look of genuine innocence as if nothing had happened at all. She thought they had been taken over by some demon or evil spirits.

But from that day, these demons and evil spirits took over men regularly and invariably when it was dark. Cases of assaults, molestations, and abusing were reported from all parts of the city and over a few days these reporting poured from all over the country. Groups with fancy names like 'Army of Adam' , 'Warriors of the lost manhood', 'Jack the Ripper's Army' and 'Knights of Mankind' wrote letters in blood claiming responsibility to incidents of kicking, punching and hair tearing that took place in the dark alleys of the city. The whole foundation of womankind began shaking in fear. Men were striking back with vengeance. In over a few months, every single woman had been assaulted at least once. Every precaution they took was useless. Road lights were found smashed, electricity generators rendered useless, the power corporation office vandalized - men did everything they could to keep light away. Newspaper headlines screamed 'Man-in-the-dark spits tobacco juice on the general secretary of World Women Council', 'Iron Lady Anna Hellgber kicked by a bushman yesterday night', 'Village women complain of mysterious molesters lurking in the night' and so on. The alarm bells started ringing when the President of United Women Council, Mrs Margaret Twister's hair was shaved off and her face painted black by a group of men calling themselves 'Makeup men' when she was taking her evening walk. Promptly after this ghastly incident, the World Women Council passed a resolution offering truce. The resolution had a single point plan - women would not assault any man physically or abuse him without sufficient reason that he deserved it and the same would apply to men too. The resolution was ratified by all the invisible men's groups through unsigned letters.

After this, some sort of peace and order was restored. Life became less unbearable for men. Women, although they still feared to go out in the night, could still feel relative peace because the majority of the groups has called ceasefire. Whatever remained were the solitary kickers and spitters who wanted to make sure women didn't fell back to their old habits.

The anonymous warriors of manhood chose to remain anonymous knowing well that as long as they remained so, they would be known as the saviors of manhood, the brave warriors, and what not but if they be discovered, the whole world would spit on them and they would certainly die of shame. Strange are the ways of men and stranger are their concepts of manhood.

To this day, women fear the dark and you will hardly find any woman out on the roads in the night. For in the dark lurks the ancient warriors of manhood, faithfully following what 'The Savior' had asked them to do ages ago - to pounce upon women.

The revenge of Mr. Adam Colingbridge

2007-04-03T04:33:00.000-07:00

This is one of my stories which I actually managed to finish and post it on a short stories related site called spoiledink.com and that too in a personal record-breaking time of one day. The feedback I got for the story were pretty interesting particularly about the unconventional way the story ends.

The revenge of Mr. Adam Colingbridge

In the beginning, he used to feel ashamed when he thought like that. Now he feels ashamed that he used to feel that way. This transition is not entirely his own doing. Mary's behavior has indeed changed a lot since the last week. She no longer waits for him when he returns from office at midnight. She doesn't seem to care to look her best when he's around. She talks on the phone for long hours, watches 'sex and the City' regularly and mentioned it once or twice that she should probably get a cellphone of her own. And yes, she sometimes (twice actually)forgot to kiss him goodbye. She's changed alright, sighed Mr. Adam Colingbridge. Thirty years of living by the rulebooks preceded by another twenty years of learning those rules gives a man enough maturity not to expect to see his wife waiting for him when he returns home at midnight, especially after thirty years of marriage. Probably a change in the order was long overdue. she's been acting out the part of a good housewife long enough, now she's showing her true colors. Or maybe she really been a good wife and just wants to spice up her life a bit. Maybe its because they never had any child. Maybe she's been always like this and he's noticing it now. He's noticing too much and too deep lately. Every new move she makes, every step she takes adds strenght to his conviction that Peter, the office clerk was telling the truth. Its like a jigsaw puzzle and he's cutting the missing pieces to complete the puzzle. The puzzle is not yet solved but it doesn't matter. He knows what the final picture would be like. He just has to cut the remaining pieces.

It all started two weeks ago when he overheard Peter saying to the office steno, Miss Collin that he's seen Mr. Colingbridge's wife sitting hand-in-hand with another man in a park. For the first time in his life, Mr. Adam felt betrayed. He felt as if all these days he has been carrying a dagger stabbed into his back and suddenly today he's feeling the pain. His senses grew numb, sweat trickled down his temples. He stood transfixed to the spot for some time not knowing how to react. Never had he imagined that one day it would come to this. He then collapsed into the nearest chair and sat with his face in his hands trying not to cry. Then it happened. The feeling of betrayal gave way to the need for revenge. Revenge seemed totally justified and warranted. He's been betrayed, his life shattered for no fault of his. all his life he's not done anything wrong that would warrant the pain he's experiencing now. Revenge, revenge, revenge - the words resonated in his mind and somehow helped ease his pain.

That day he returned home early. Mary was watching some romantic flick. He sat down at the opposite sofa. She seemed not to notice him, she was too busy watching the movie. He sat there motionless staring at her, trying to come to terms with the fact that beneath this seemingly beautiful innocent face lied such a cunning betrayer. He let his eyes follow the contour of her well carved body - her white skin, long legs, long black hair that smelt of roses, the dimple in her left cheek, the little brown patch on her left arm and the blue eyes that looked like a deep blue sea trapped in a magic crystal ball enchanting you to jump into its bottomless waters. Suddenly he realized something - he's always loved her very much. Yes, he loved her more than anything else in his life but never felt the need to show his love to her. After all she was his. His love was by default. Strange are the ways of life, today when he hates her so much does he realize how much he loved her. And perhaps this realization of his Love's lost labor strenghtened his crave for revenge.

The seeds of revenge that was sown last week has grown into a dense and dark tree whose roots have penetrated every capillary, every vein in his body. All things malicious grow fast they say and the growth in this case was aided by a week's holiday that he took to sit at home and observe her closely. And everything he observed seemed to corroborate to what he'd imagined the night before. He had the plan ready. Next week would be her last.

So, Mr. Adam Colingbridge sat alone on his bed contemplating upon the details of his plan. As he sat thus, he felt a slight prick on his left wrist. He looked to see where the interruption came from. It was a mosquito, a plump one by the standard of mosquitoes, sitting calmly with its proboscis (that needle like thing) dipped into the pore of his skin. Under normal circumstances, going by the rulebooks, he would've brought the mosquito's life to a sudden end by a slap of his right hand. But not today. Today was different, his rulebooks don't matter today. His belief in living life according to the rules seemed shattered.

He watched the tiny mosquito with interest. It reminded him of Mary. Maybe it too has been drinking his blood for some time, perhaps daily, and its now that he's realizing it. It amused him to see the mosquito draining his blood in absolute confidence of its act being unrevealed, unnoticed. The mosquito seemed too engrossed in its vile act to realize that the veil has long been lifted and its deed is for all to see. Maybe a slight movement of the hand or a puff of wind would break its single-minded devotion to the deceitful crime, but no, not even a single breath should alert the criminal lest it escapes out of the reach of justice and revenge. It deserved to be killed, but in full knowledge of the cause of its brutal death. Mr. Adam didn't want to miss the satisfaction of watching pure terror mingled with guilt in the face of his victim. The mosquito was no longer just a mosquito, it was Mary herself.

Mr. Adam let her continue, just as he had planned. He would then trap her in the act allowing her enough time to realize that her game of deceit was up, that she's been caught red-handed and perhaps let her repent in terror of her dreadful end. He wanted her to watch her death trod slowly, confidently towards her. He wanted her to die a thousand deaths before he ended it all. Then there's the law to be taken care of. He's planned it all - the time, place, occasion, everything. If everything works out smoothly according to his plan, the law wouldn't get a whiff of it all. Even if it somehow did, he had his case ready - a simple, faithful and loving husband killing his wife in a fit of rage upon discovering her secret affair. The case was simple and convincing. He's made sure of this.

Slowly and silently he put his thumb and middle finger on the two sides of the wrist between which the mosquito sat. He paused for a while fearing that the mosquito might fly away sensing danger. The mosquito however was oblivious to the surrounding being too engrossed in its work. Mr. Adam allowed himself a wicked smile and then stretched the skin suddenly with both his fingers in opposite directions so that the mosquito's proboscis was trapped in his skin. Caught, caught at last. He soaked in the sight of the mosquito kicking its legs and flapping its wings desperately trying to escape, not knowing what struck it. He let it struggle in vain and imagined how Mary, his beautiful Mary, would look. Would she struggle so much or give in to her fate soon, perhaps she would cry and ask for forgiveness or perhaps she would try to convince him of her innocence. Not that these mattered to him yet somehow he felt superior imagining Mary struggling such.

The mosquito slowly came to a standstill as if accepting its fate and waiting for the end, praying it comes soon. Seeing it give up so soon disappointed Mr. Adam. Anyway it was just a mosquito, surely Mary would last much longer. He then put his index finger softly on the exhausted mosquito taking care not to crush it. He wanted it to feel the burden of its crime till the weight becomes so unbearable that it would beg for deliverance. He let the pressure grow slowly. Then he pressed the finger down so that the mosquito was no more between the finger and his skin. It was now just a pulp of deceit and sin, its evil life ended in a just way. He got his revenge.

His mind thus at relative ease, Mr. Adam went to sleep and dreamed of that day next week when he would again experience the sweet taste of revenge.

A week later, there appeared a little piece in the obituary section of the local newspaper. It read as follows :

Adam Colingbridge, age 50 left for heavenly abode, on June 10,2006

He died of malaria.

He is survived by his beloved wife Mary Colingbridge.

As a thoughtful agricultural engineer he cared for the wildlife and the
public waterways. He also continued his Father's practice of fishing the
River Lune for trout and salmon.

Adam created a magnificent garden, welcomed his friends on their rare
visits and lived his happiest days with his wife Mary.

Born: 17-03-1956 Died:10-06-2006 in Claughton, Lancaster ,Great Britain.

May his soul rest in peace.