(Okay, this is of a different genre, as 'humour' jumps into the back seat. Basically, leaving footprints all over. Read on.)

Room No. 301

He flash opened his eyes, as he heard a distant silencer of an idle motorbike. Turning over on his bed, he craned his head to catch a glimpse through the little window of his dim lit room. Pitch darkness, a far away and the only illuminated street light was all that his eyes could gather. His wrist-watch reminded him that the sun would rise in just about two hours. The sound of the motorbike diminished into silence: a scary silence. Charlie could hear his shaky, heavy breath. He could feel his heart pacing up and down. He closed his eyes to calm himself but in vain, as he heard human movements outside his door in the corridor. He locked his lips tight in trying to mute his breath. He browsed through his pockets for his revolver, with leaking hopes. The revolver was lost the day before, he knew it. Three… two…one…. “Knock knock” his door was knocked. Charlie said to himself, pressing his eyes- “They are here…Help me God…. They are here..”

Room No. 302 >

‘Deal Agreement, Mr. Vinod, VV & Co.’ Mr. Vinod couldn’t believe his eyes scanning through those words in the ‘Agreement papers’. He couldn’t help smiling. As if talking to the dark sky outside his window, he said- “ The sun has already risen in my life. You still have two hours of darkness.” He realised that the sun would be setting back home in India at that point of time, grabbed his cell phone, hit the numbers on them as his lovely wife greeted him on the other side- “Congrats dear. Got the news. I’m preparing sweets.”

“Love you dear. What’s a sweet if it’s not you Ani?” his smile almost touched his ears.

“ Oh come on ya. Waiting for you. Another 8 hours and you will be here. Just can’t wait baby.”

“Yeah. And hey, what’s my kitty doing?”

“She’s watching cartoon on tv. Hey can’t you reach here faster than 8 long hours?”

“Awee.. Love you baby. I’ll run even in the flight and reach soon. Don’t worry.” He joked as they cut the call.

Vinod, stood by the window, the soft carpet beneath him, the sky clearing, as a weak moon showed itself between the rolling red clouds. The silence was broken with a sudden thud on his door. It took him a long ten seconds to realise the sound and then hurried to the door, peeped through the view-finder but found no one. As though his brain was resting, he motioned his hands, reached the latch to open the door not realising that he was about to commit the biggest mistake of his life.

Room No. 301

Charlie, who didn’t respond to the door knocks, freezed to discover that the locks were being jimmied using foreign substances. He literally felt his blood rush inside him as he found his head go blank. It took two minutes for the door to be flung opened, thereby exposing two white men wearing black caps, holding a revolver each. They were revolvers fitted with silencers, making them appear longer than normal. Charlie, as a last resort, leapt out of his bed and tried to speed out into the corridor and it took no time for those huge men to grab him and let out a shot. The bullet pierced through his palms as it began colouring the carpet red. Charlie, acting entirely on his reflexes, stood and dragged himself as he covered some distance in trying to break away. Within no time he received another shot, on his shoulder this time, ripping off the upper part of his shirt along with a lump of skin. The uncontrolled running doubled with the gun shot led him crashing straight into another door : Door No. 302.

Vinod drew the latch and the door gave way, exposing him straight to the back of a wounded man (Charlie). Standing face-to-face to Charlie were two hugely built white men, with revolvers and sprinkled blood stains on their faces. One of them, with a forceful voice whispered, as he pointed his revolver into Charlie’s chest- “ You think you can get away?? Go to hell” and bhoom. The relatively silent bullet hit Charlie straight on his chest thrusting his body right into Vinod’s arms. Vinod, who, in a state of shock withdrew his hand allowing the body to drop vertically down over the soft carpet.

Mr. Vinod, the Founder of VV & Co., there he was facing straight into two gunmen, fresh murderers. His worst fears came alive as the hand with the revolver raised once again, this time Vinod’s chest the target. “No Evidence, no bullshit please. Sorry” said a voice, as the bullet sped and ripped apart a pure chest. The thud lifted his legs above the ground, dropped identically beside the dead Charlie. The air gushed out of him, the heart stopped as he breathed his last.

Certainly the sun was setting back home in India as the sun rose over Vinod’s dead body.

Midnight Outing..!!

(Guys, writing after a long gap. Lost touch. But anyway (try to) enjoy it :) )

“Damn… These mosquitoes….. Dude, I'm not able to sleep at all.” Roshan almost cried.

“Think about your ex, think about the day you got your board exam results and the day your neighbour’s dog bit you…..” I went on like a ‘Reality Show’ judge..

“Shut up. Oh my god, you just ruined my night’s sleep.” Roshan sat up trying to forget everything that I had told him to recollect. He shook his head and continued- “Okay. Now tell me, how to get rid of these mosquitoes? Man, they come close to my ears and make stupid sounds.”

“You’ve got to take revenge on them man. Show them your man-ness.”

“But how??” Roshan said, though the ‘how’ was dragged so much that it sounded like a wolf’s howl.

I stood and marched to the cupboard to fetch my CD pouch, slipped out an audio CD from it and passed it on to Roshan- “Take this.”

“Latest Hits OF Himesh Reshammia?”

“Yup. What better way to take revenge on those mosquitoes uh??”

He kicked me hard after which he hurt his toe, howled like a wolf again and went back to his bed. I mean, any mad fan of Himesh would have done the same. All was well from my side, as eventually I had ended up irritating him more than those little useless mosquitoes.

An hour later……

I noticed Roshan sitting against me wearing one of those Shilpa Shetty’s fake IPL smiles. He growled - “You ruined my sleep you idiot.”

I returned a girlish smile, which pissed him off even more. He pulled my blanket out as if he was planning to strip me, but just said, rather ordered- “We are going for a ride. Get up.”

Cruising at a high speed, there we were, on the streets of Bangalore as the clock struck 2 in the morning. We rode along as the cold breeze tickled our ears, the silence around gave a becalming effect and the blood pressures raised with every turn he took. I yelled at him from the rear seat- “Ride carefully. I almost met god last time I sat behind you.”

“You are not on the pavement, so you are safe.” He yelled back.

I didn’t actually quite stab him but I was tempted to say – “Go to hell” but again, I was intelligent enough to hold it back realising the irony that it would present considering that I was sitting behind him.

Anyway, finally Roshan spotted the brakes and the bike was brought to rest. I realised that we had tripped 10kms in pursuit of a cigarette. His wafer-thin wallet had enough in it to afford a cigarette for him and a cool-drink for me. He gazed strenuously at me and enquired out of frustration – “When will you grow up?”

“I read about the evils of smoking, I gave up smoking.” I smiled.

“I read about the evils of smoking, I gave up reading.” He smiled.

I returned the stare like I had glasses slipping from the tip of my nose. He continued gazing at me, now like a devil with his face engulfed in smoke. I continued with my cool-drink, staring at the sky as he continued puffing away smoke staring at street dogs. Just as it was getting boring, a girl wearing pants which almost started from her thighs came by and asked Roshan- “What kinda' person are you?”

“Who? Me?” Roshan bulged his eyes showing excitement as he hid his tautness.

“Yes baby.” She smiled.

“I’m basically a diplomatic person.” Roshan replied in a way which reminded me of my class 10, slightly eccentric Maths teacher.

“If you think, completing your ‘diploma’ course is what is being ‘diplomatic’ then you are wrong you stupid.” I said clamorously busy staring at ‘nothing’.

The girl, an intelligent one I concluded, turned to me and asked me straight- “You want that stuff?” as she dug out a packet of a whitish powder from her bore well sized pocket. Roshan, who was aghast at seeing her with drugs, leapt on to the bike and threw it into ignition and rustled –“ Dude, come over. Fast.” I walked to the bike with one eye fixed to the girl ( like James Bond), said- “ Tell me if that powder doesn’t work, I have a CD of Himesh Reshammia’s latest hits” and off we went as Roshan played with the accelerator putting the lives of street dogs into jeopardy.

As we reached home, Roshan went into a mood where he sounded like a retired senior citizen, with his ears being fed with some ‘latest hits’ of those silly mosquitoes. He went on and on with his morality talks, which reminded me of a line – “If electricity comes from electrons does it mean morality comes from morons?” Anyway, that’s when I realised that there are worse things in life than death, spending an evening (sounds better than ‘night’) with Roshan.


( Hey guys, sorry, have been away from blogging. As they say- It's so difficult to be doing nothing coz you never know when you're finished. Anyway, in the meanwhile I thought I would repost a few small quickies that I had written long ago. Would come up with a post soon. hehe ;) .. cya)

In a congregation, at a small constituency in rural India.

Person1 - There’s been no supply of tomatoes into our town since last week. What is the matter?

Politician- (smiles) I know. I’ll look into it.

Person2- No supply of eggs too. What about that?

Politician- (smiles)I know. I’lll look into it.

Person3- You haven’t visited our constituency since the day you were elected into power. Now, all of a sudden, what makes you come here?

Politician- (smiles) You people are ‘God’ to me. I’ve come here to seek blessings from you. As you know, elections are coming up. Please vote for me.

All the gathered people, with crimson red faces, scanned around themselves in search of anything that could be hurled or pelted.

Politician- (smiles) No tomatoes?? no eggs uh???