“The tea has got cold” Sheila set down her cup and waited for the two young men who knelt opposite her, clad in just a jean trouser, to do the same.
The younger man, Khalil wiped the blood over his knifed naked chest, cleared his throat- “We do it for a reason.” His voice was steady, but his hands shuddered and his eyes seemed lifeless. He couldn’t even move to rise.
The other man, Abdul looked down his bloody body, tightened his fists and squalled in wrath- “ Terii m** k**……..” but stopped abruptly and howled with unbearable pain when a knife penetrated him under his foot. Sheila wiped the blood that splashed over her arms and withdrew the knife from his foot. Khalil moved close and embraced his companion, who was squalling with pain.
Sheila tossed the knife to a corner, mounted onto the recliner, rested her head and stared at the only over-head lamp in the dimly lit basement room. She inhaled clamorously and heard her breath oozing out amidst the surrounding mid-night silence. She hurled a glance at the wall clock, crowched down to her socks, whispered to herself – “2am. It’s time” and fetched a piece of metal- A Revolver.
Shabbir Khan looked up the hanging bridge, shrouded in the december mist and darkness. His long over-coat, polished shoes, handsome and dark features always seemed sinister at night. His boots made rhythmic tocs overpowering the mid-night silence, as he briskened along the pavement. His ears and eyes sought for any kind of activity along the street. The street at this time, was dead for the day. His walking stopped when he heard a truck approaching him from behind. He slipped his hand inside his over-coat in search of his holster. The sound of the approaching truck grew and he tightened his grip over the revolver.
Sheela stood from the recliner, exposing a shining black revolver clinging on to her laft palm. She drew a thin pistol-silencer from her pocket and attached it to the revolver. Khalil and Abdul searched for their voices. Sheila hesitated, then raised the pistol with both hands. Being a school teacher and just a normal middle class woman, she’d never imagined she’d do anything of this sort in her life. She took a deep breath and fired, shifted her aim, and fired again. Both their foreheads holed, they thrashed on to the ground, moaning. Abdul lost his breath into history within no time. Khalil, Sheila noticed, was still breathing, rippling the blood formed under his nose. Sheila aimed at his nose and fired another shot and squealed out loud with a combined sense of anger and relief- “This much for killing my innocent husband, you bastards.” She grabbed her phone and her coat and hurried to her car.
“Done madam?” her driver enquired.
“Yes. Hurry. Not home. The other room.” Sheila ordered.
The driver hit the accelerator and propelled the car into motion. Sheila retrieved a letter from her purse ; a suicide note that she had written earlier. She ripped it apart into small bits, lowered the window and let it into the breeze.
The sound of the truck grew bigger on Shabbir. With one hand held tight on his pistol, he threw a casual glance. The truck approached closer and closer, but moved ahead without cooking a fuss. He loosened his grip on the pistol, set his coat right and continued walking. The street returned to its original silence ; he could hear his own breath. A cold breeze whistled along the empty lane. Just then, he heard two thuds from across the street. Having spent his entire life in a country where a gun-shot was a daily norm, he decided it came from a gun shot ; from a gun with a silencer. Within a few seconds, another thud disturbed the calmness around him. “My pals” he whispered restlessly, and drew the pistol from his holster and hurried across the lane in search of the feeble thud. Almost like a flash, a speeding car whizzed past him. He turned around, aimed his pistol at the speeding car, but ceased himself from pulling the trigger. He noticed pieces of paper flying out from the car’s window. He examined the bits of paper and then headed back in search of the bodies of his pals. He was READY for REVENGE.
Sheila jumped out of her bed. She could hear motors in the street and the sounds of human movement in the corridors. Residents of the block were calling out good byes to their school going children. Just then, the door crashed open and a tall man rushed in without a word. A shaft of light from outside made her cover her eyes. But the door was closed immediately and bolted. Before she could evaluate the situation, the tall man caught her by her neck and locked her movement. “ You think you can get away?” he pushed the pistol against her forehead, with a heavy breath he repeated again, louder this time- “ You think you can get away?”
He let a minute pass by, settled his mind and pushed the tip of the pistol against her forehead, inhaled deeply -“ I’m Shabbir Khan by the way” and pulled the trigger. The blood flushed out from her head painting the carpet red.
Revenge- It never ends. Does it?
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