On The Highway..!! - 2

His friend, Vijay arrived at the “The CrossRoads Inn” and walked briskly through the parking lot. He tried to spot Vishal’s car, but he didn’t. “Bad sign” he said to himself and continued breezing through. He pushed through the front doors of the in-built multi cuisine restaurant. The restaurant was less than half filled and it dint take long for Vijay to realize that his friend wasn’t here. Pushing through the doors once again he walked into the reception area and waited for the elevator. The elevator arrived and he entered as it rode to the third floor. Searching for room number 305, he brisked up. Finally, as he found the room, he knocked at the door for which silence was the only reply he got. He slipped out his cell phone and dialed Vishal, but it wasn’t reachable. He ran back to the elevator, descended into the reception area and asked the Receptionist- “ Where is the person in room number 305?”

“Sorry Sir. Our shifts changed and I’m on duty only since 5 minutes. I’ll check the records.” She turned some pages and said- “ The room got vacated 15 minutes ago, Sir.”

Asking too many questions wasn’t going to help his case, so he walked out into the parking lot, approached the watchman, counted out two 50 rupee notes and asked- “What happened to a silver coloured Ford that was here? KA-05 MB 4248.” Trying to get the watchman out of his ambivalence, he slid the money into the watchman’s pocket and gently patted on his back- “Please.”

“Police.”

“Shit…..” Vijay let out a frustrated kick on the hotel gates.

==

==

At Perambadur Police Station

Inspector, Mr. Ashok (Crime Branch, TN) crossed his legs, sipped his tea and said in his crisp voice- “ Why should I believe you?”

Vishal, with dignity replied- “ All I can do is tell you what I know, Sir. Incidentally that is what the truth is. And I believe that’ll be very scarcely helpful to you.” He wiped his sweat and continued- “ I offer to be helpful, now that you’ve spotted me anyway.” He smiled.

Mr. Ashok played in his hands, with the toll receipt paper through which he could discover Vishal’s whereabouts and fixed a long stare towards him. It took him a long minute to change his stare into an almost invisible smile and then stood up, clapped his table and announced- “ Okay. Vishal, you’ll be accompanying me and my assistant Mr. Syed to the spot. You’ll show us the house that the victim pointed towards before he died.” Trying not to sound too nice, he continued- “ Until then, remember you are under custody, your cell phone and your car will be here.” He finished his last sip of tea and warned- “ No tricks. No funny business. Okay? Lets move”

An hour later—

“This is the petrol bunk where I refilled petrol last night,” pointing towards the bunk, Vishal informed Mr. Ashok and Syed as they almost reached the point where the body was found. In a couple of minutes, Syed applied brakes to halt the Qualis, as they had arrived at the spot. The place wasn’t dense with people as Vishal had expected it to be, but it was empty as the post murder procedures were done with and only a constable remained at the spot. It was almost noon, but with the surrounding heavy woods, the sun hardly penetrated and that made the atmoshpere cool.

Vishal scanned around the place and was startled to find that the wooden- “Dead End” sign wasn’t there anymore. He further glanced along the road, gasped when he dint find the metal barricade that had blocked the road that night. On learning this, Mr. Ashok informed Syed to enquire with the highway Patrol Police and the local village police if the two sign-boards were detracted by them.



“That’s the house there, that the victim pointed towards before he fell dead, Sir.” Vishal informed as he pointed towards the old, tile-roofed, modest house. It was about a hundred metres from the road, with no particular pathway. They walked through the trees, the path layered with withered dry leaves towards the house.
“There doesn’t seem to have been any recent human activity here.” He said to Syed, looked at Vishal, turned back to Syed and continued- “ But with these winds, it’s hard to conclude.”

‘knock..knock’ Syed knocked at the door, as Mr. Ashok held his right hand on his pistol. Without wasting any more time, Syed broke opened the weak door and the three entered in. The house was dark and empty. With the help of torches they moved in slowly by the walls, alert to any human retaliation. The room smelt filthy and a bit different from most unused houses. “Sir, bloodstains.” Syed pointed out to Mr. Ashok. The blood stains continued along as a path into the back door. “Somebody was dragged out of here.” Vishal said astonishingly with his heart beating in a hurry.
“Don’t talk. Shut up.” Syed replied with an irritated whisper. “A refrigerator.” Syed illuminated it with his torch.
In a deserted house of a supposed killer having nothing, not even bulbs, spotting a refrigerator, Mr. Ashok knew it was never going to be an auspicious discovery. He could almost paint the picture now. Syed hesitantly stepped forward, clasped his hand on the fridge door handle, looked around and pulled it open gently and the three were exposed to a horrifying scene. Vishal, held his throat, ran to the window, pushed it open, coughed hard and vomited. Cut-off human fingers in a polythene bag.

To be Continued......

On The Highway..!!

(Hey guys, fed up of humour, I tried a different genre. Talk about experimenting..!! I've posted this on Writer's Lounge already. Okay, brace yourself and get ready for a thrilling drive.)

Refilling petrol into his Ford, Vishal swung into a small, silent, lifeless lane. He turned on his music player and threw a glance at the dashboard clock, which said- 8pm. It was starkly dark as he drove steadily ahead in search of an entry point to get back into the highway. The road became narrower and darker as the surrounding woods got denser. He could have touched the highway by just retracing the route by which he had come from, but somewhere in his adventurous mind, he thought- “Lets explore.” But now, as he passed well through the village limits, he wondered- “ Do I need this?” He noticed a hitch in his voice and repeated loudly to himself- “ Do I need this crap? No right?”



Suddenly the head beams illuminated a large wooden sign attached to a tree, and Vishal stopped the car. He stared out of the windshield into the old, dirty, bedraggled wooden board and noticed a familiar word STOP. The rest of the sign was incomprehensive, but he could notice another similar word- DEAD END.” He observed his head beams illuminate a small metal barricade about 50 metres in front of him, which blocked the road. The road looked perfectly fine ahead, which made him contemplate as to why such a board was put up. He surveyed the glove box on the dashboard, in search of his torch. He dug out a small piece of paper, which was in it and read it with the help of the torch. It said-“ Toll fee- Rs.35.” He entwined and crushed it, threw it outside and stepped out with the torch in his hand though he had kept the car’s head lights on.

He walked tardily as the dry leaves on the road made crisp sounds as he stepped over them. He reached the barricade, scanned around the place with his torch and found nothing to apprehend the wooden sign to. ”Somethin’ fishy” he said in his mind. With feelings of ambivalence, he started his walk back to his car, covering his eyes from the glare of the car’s powerful head beams. With silence surrounding him, he could literally hear his breath and the crisp sounds of the dry leaves as the wind blew. Somewhere in the distance a dog barked- an unfriendly bark, he decided. He got closer to the car with just ten strides away from it- one… two…three…. four…five..and he froze. A human hand rested on his shoulders with blood dripping through it and a struggling male voice cried- “ Hey….Hey….”

--

--

--


His dashboard clock read 8:30 pm and his speedometer read 110 kms/hr. He was back on the highway, he screamed at himself- “fuckin speed-breakers” and jumped over one. He was sweating profusely, though the car’s air conditioning was switched on. He noticed his music player was still playing, and turned it off in a flash. A milestone read- “Chennai – 98kms.” He found another, the third ‘toll-booth’ on the highway so far and stopped to pay and then proceeded. He grabbed his phone out of his pocket, luckily it could catch the network signal and he dialed his close buddy Vijay, whom he was supposed to meet in Chennai. Moreover, he had to confide in someone close to him, preferably a good crony.

Vijay- “ Hey bro..!! You are late. I’m waiting. What’s up?”

Vishal- “ Hey Vijay.” He cleared his throat and continued- “ Listen, I need to tell you something. Something dangerously important.”

Vijay- “Buddy, you sound tense. What’s wrong?”

Vishal- “ Yeah. On the way, I had to enter a small village to refill petrol after which, I headed along through the village road in search of the highway entry point, where I found a ‘dead-end’ sign. I got down to check out and man… shit” He pulled out the small water bottle from his glove box, emptied it in one go and continued- “ A person, a middle aged person, with blood stains all over his body came to me and tried to say something. All he managed to say was- “ Hey.. Hey…” and directed his hand towards a house at a distance and fell dead right in front of me. I think someone stabbed him with a knife. Oh man, in trying to be stupidly inquisitive, I fucked up everything.”

Vijay- “Holy shit. What else?”

Vishal- “ Nothing. I dint know how to react? So, just hurried out of that place. Now, I fear the police would put me into hardships regarding all this. All unnecessary bullshit I got into. Don’t know what the fuck made me go there.”

Vijay- “Okay, cool down.” He paused and continued- “ Okay, do as I say. Reach Chennai, and ‘check-in’ into “The CrossRoads Inn” Leave your luggage in the room and walk out into the public, maybe a restaurant. I’ll meet you there.”He paused and continued again- “ Remember, you are not the culprit. So head held high. Okay? We shall take the bull by the horns. See ya.”

Vishal- “Yeah. Thanks” they cut the call.




He continued driving at a constant 90kms/hr as the road was wide and smooth. He glanced through the rear-view mirror and his heart stopped for a second. A police ‘Qualis’ was following behind him. He hit the accelerator, as the speedometer needle rose to 110kms/hr. His heart raced along. The police car behind him, was no less, it too maintained good speeds if not it was faster than Vishal’s Ford. The Qualis swung to the right, pushed ahead and was now head on parallel to the Ford. Vishal threw a hesitant, nervous glance towards the driver, a policeman but realized that he wasn’t returning the look. Vishal released the accelerator trying to abate and the Police-Qualis moved on without cooking up any kind of a storm. Vishal exhaled deeply relieving himself. He turned ‘on’ his music player in an attempt to vanquish his fears.

In an hour, he entered the familiar, Chennai and drove with no confusion to the hotel- “The CrossRoads Inn.” He parked his car in the parking space, checked in into room number- 305. He tipped the helper who showed him to his room and locked the doors. He went in, had a shower, ate some fruits that he had carried and noticed the wall clock, which showed- 10:30 pm. He messaged Vijay over his phone to inform the room number and typed- “ Meet you at the restaurant.” As he was putting on his shoes to leave to the restaurant, he heard the ring of his ‘door-bell’ and two hard knocks on the door. He swung to the ‘switch-board’, switched off the lights and headed to the ‘peep-hole’ of the door. He peeped optimistically, but to his shock his worst fears came true. He saw three men in khakis, waiting at the door. The Policemen had arrived.

To be Continued....

Midnight Utopia..!!

“Sonaaaaliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii………………” I screamed as the clock struck 3 in the morning, in my hostel room.

Sensing that I was still asleep, Roshan brought a jug full of water and poured it on me. Drowned with water and shock, I tried to sit, trying to catch my breath and thoughts as the water entered my nostrils. That bastard could have just sprinkled water on me.

“Oh God! What kind of a mad ass are you?” Roshan asked restlessly feeling helpless about me- the enigma.

“Same to you.” I smiled and blasted- “Go get the towel you stupid.”

As he passed the towel to me, he said with ineffable restlessness- “ You literally kill me with your dreams everyday. How many tonnes of crap do you have loaded into that useless head of yours?”

I was recollecting my dream without even renting out an ear to his ‘woe blabbering’. I said interrupting him- “ Okay listen to my dream” and began with the unvarnished version of the mid-night crap-

The sky encircled me with dark, gray clouds. I clad a white shirt with a white dhoti in a pukka South Indian village style. A tall, black guy stood facing me around 10 metres from me with a stare, a forest of a moustache and a knife in his hand. With his other hand, he held my girlfriend, Sonali's throat. I looked at my slippers and then at the sky, removed my sunglasses and flipped it aside. The first drop of rain reached my forehead, which ignited my show of bravery and man-ness. With a tough look on my face I lifted my right leg as if to show him my thighs. Then I lifted my right hand and slapped hard on my right thigh and just as I slapped the thigh, a loud thunder broke out and the downpour began. With that, the guy trembled with fear, released the girl and ran for his life. Sonali ran to me and hugged me and was about to kiss when the director hurriedly shouted- “CUT. Take Okay.”

I added to Roshan, who was with his ears open to my preposterous dream story, cleaning all the excess water on the floor after he had poured it on me- “ Dude, the damn director. I was reminded of our guru, Navjot Singh Sidhu’s saying- “ The ball missed the bat just like a kiss in an Indian movie.”



‘Crap-disinterested Mr. Roshan enquired- “ And you shouted Sonaaliii for that?”

“No, you stupid.” I continued- “ That’s after another scene in the movie.”

“Fuck You.”

“Thank You.”

Unlike Roshan, I was excited, so I continued- “ And you know what? I won the Indian equivalent of ‘The Oscars’ – ‘The Bhaskars’ for this role. You ever got such a dream in you lifetime?”

“Thank God. No.”

Roshan, in pursuit of time-pass, asked out of curiosity- “ What was that next part which made you shout so loud like Tarzan?”

I smiled and started-

I paid 100 bucks for a bunch of flowers, which costs just 50 bucks and began to run to the railway station. Though there were taxis all around, I had to confine myself to running. My sweat and tears merged confusingly as I sped across the city like a thief who stole flowers. My informers (a bunch of comedians) had informed me that Sonali’s dad (the villain by the way) was taking her away from me to an unknown place. The train began it’s movement as I reached the station entrance. I dint care to buy a platform ticket but ran, jumping around like Jackie Chan. The train was speeding away from the platform when I spotted Sonali from the train extending a hand towards me with tears flowing through her like a waterfall. I ran and ran, but the train was faster and I couldn’t reach her. Now my 100 bucks worth flowers and my life was totally wasted. So I waited for the next train to enter the platform, and as it came along, I jumped in front of it shouting out loud- “ Sonaaaliiiiiiiiiiii…..”

It was 6 in the morning now, Roshan scratched his head after listening to my story and walked into the bathroom to get ready for college. Then it was my turn, and then we headed to college, where I narrated this story to a bunch of guys who all scratched their heads later and then I headed back home and fell asleep.

At 3 AM, the next morning, I shouted with roof-threatening levels of sound- “Yeahhhhhhhh..!!! I won ‘The Bhaskars’ …. Yeahhhh..!!” which made Roshan waste another jug of water.

25 dimesnions..!!

Asbah tagged me with this. I’m supposed to write 25 random things about myself. I’ve had this notion of not writing tags, but somewhere in the middle of the night, I woke up when a thought struck me like lightening- “ Stop acting over smart and do those tags which nice people generously pass on.” At 11 in the morning, here I am…..

1--> I plucked off a white hair that I spotted on my head today. How depressing for a first thing to do on the morning of Valentine’s Day. I’m 21, but I’m getting to feel like 81.

2--> I watched a telugu movie of Siddharth ( of RDB fame) yesterday. I knew girls liked him but not to the extent that no guys watched his movie. The theatre was 80% girls. Man, I felt weird, but not completely bad. :P

3--> I sometimes, all of a sudden feel like listening to slow, depressing songs. Feel like taking a walk alone in a park. Feel like staying alone n all that. This serves as entertainment for my silly friends.

4--> People talking to me for the first time can easily come to a conclusion- “ What a boring person he is!” That is cent percent right. It takes time for me to get along with people. I tried to change, but I guess I’m like that.

5--> Right now, I’m feeling – 25 things about me is just too (three) much.

6--> I love the color- Black. Black and blue is the combination I like the most. It doesn’t go well with dresses thought.

7--> I can prepare dosas, chapathis and few such tiffins. I’m famous in my family for preparing Tea. So, in case unemployment strikes me - chai..chai..chai chai chai… in the railways stations surely.

8--> I sometimes feel I can make a Mega serial (soap opera) with my cricket stories (rather woes) and my health issues. Just need a good ‘camera-man’ who can zoom in on me thrice every second.

9--> I love writing funny stories. I love the fact that I make people laugh by doing so (if that is a fact btw!!). What better than laughter? ;)

10--> My posts may not suggest this, but I’m a responsible person, be it on the road or generally as a citizen.

11--> I don’t like people who always keep grumbling. Be happy until u die, keep worries for heaven.

12--> My favourite movie is – The pursuit of Happiness. It inspires me like nothing does.

13--> Am presently listening to a tamil song- ‘Mundhinam paarthene.’ From ‘Vaaranam Aayiram’. The song is soothing. Next on the playlist is Akon.

14--> I am shy. Hehe. Yeah, I feel shy sometimes.

15--> I wish to move around to more places. I was born, brought up and spoilt all here in Bangalore. I love this city though.

16--> Just like another billion in our country, I’m crazy about cricket. I pretty much understand all the technical details about it. I’ve been coached by some national players, also had been selected for my state U-15 team, but that was the end of the story. Health issues. I recollect this once in a week at least. Can’t help. Can’t digest.

17--> I can’t imagine how my life would have been if I hadn’t been blogging. Best thing that has happened to me recently, really.

18--> Kids in my family circle like me like hell. They do all sort of things with me. Last month, they put a flower on my ear and took snaps. Last week, they put wires all over me and yesterday they put dirt on me. They take snaps of it and laugh the whole day. I wonder if I’m that funny.

19--> I hate it when people compare me with someone else.

20--> I’m getting to like my name nowadays. :P

21--> I must say I have a wonderful sister. She’s 8 years younger to me. I love the way she cares for me. I keep trying to reciprocate, along with a few fights as usual. ;)

22--> Comments on my blog make me very happy. So I try to leave a comment on which ever blog I visit.

23--> Now, I’m feeling the heat. 25 is too much asboo.

24--> I get stupid thoughts sometimes when I read the newspaper. Just like this one yesterday- Why not grab a few pink chaddis from Muthalik. He’s got 35,000 of them. It’s recession time anyway, y not stock up? ( btw, I’m showing no sympathies to that bastard Muthalik).

25--> I’m leaving for Vellore (The Golden Temple) in a while from now with my parents. So, you can make further calculations about my relationship status on this auspicious Valentine’s Day..hehe.)

Thanks once again Asbah, for this tag. I’d further tag Aarthi, Tara, Tejesh, Sunil, Akansha, Dipti, Neha (Miss.London), Jack, Naveen, Asmita, Meera, Prats, Richa (U’ve got to do this Richa), Saket, Kaber, Riya, Shruti, Thoorika, Rinzu.. and anyone who I’d have missed out.
Long list, but I just dint want to say- Anyone can do this. Wanted to name them.. hehe..
And great news- I’ve turned off the –‘Comment Moderation’. So, my dear spammers like – ‘MoneyMatters’ or ‘LoveTricks’, keep away.. U don’t want me sending those pink chaddis to ur bog ryt?? :P

Take Care
Cheers..!!
Arjun

Heavy Party..!!

Me and Roshan, after a brain storming session filled with arguments came to the conclusion that we should also include a greeting card along with a birthday present (a monster gorilla) to his neighbour’s kid- Nikil a.k.a Dangerous Darling, on his birthday. We bought a Birthday card on which I was about to write the regular- ‘ With Love from……’ when Roshan interrupted in a way they interrupted marriages in movies. He said to me- “ Even pharmacists are clueless about your hand writing. Give it to me, I’ll write.” A lady standing beside giggled trying to look at the ceiling. I’m basically dust-proof, rain-proof and insult-proof. So, I just walked away. Anyway, after all that non-sense, we entered the party hall, which actually looked like more non-sense. Nikil ran to us and we wished him and presented him the gift and the card & in return he gave us Birthday caps (cones) and paper trumpets (we call it pee-pee). I blew hard with it and all the kids followed suit, which made me close my ears and made their parents’ BP levels rise. People who knew me well enough, in a weird way could conveniently establish the relation between- Parents’ BP levels and me. That didn’t make me any prouder, but as I said, I was insult-proof.

Anyway, they served us a ‘Welcome Drink’. Holding the drink we found a seat for ourselves. While I could finish a glass of juice in 4 seconds, Roshan takes 4 minutes. He’s like a lazy senior citizen. Meanwhile one known ‘aunty’, who was extra-large in size came by and said to me with a wicked, disgusting smile- “ You have gained weight. You were so good looking.” The happiest person on earth at that point of time, Roshan replied- “ Aunty, I have a six pack. Did I tell you? ”
Aunty smiled and looked at me waiting for a reply. I thought about many replies but said- “ He has a six pack. I have a family-pack.” She laughed but wasn’t amazed. Who cares?



Then, dinner was ready for me and I was ready for dinner. My plate got so jam-packed that I couldn’t even see the plate. I found a seat to hog on to the stuff on my plate. Meanwhile the kids put color papers and some scrap on my head and took snaps. They loved me like hell. I was reminded of the joke- “I have just returned from a children's party. I'm one of the survivors.” Roshan dint find any girl, so he sat quiet. He suddenly went to a two year old kid and started talking- “ chu chu chu… chu chu chu…” and I began to wonder who was two year old. Meanwhile that extra-large aunty came by along with her daughter. She pointed at me and told her daughter- “ Go ask him if that is a basket ball or his tummy.” They both giggled. They themselves were extra large and that tested my ‘insult-proofing.’ It was time to show my ‘man-ness’. I looked out for Roshan for company but he had already found a girl and was talking some crap like how much he liked ice-creams.

Anyway, I walked to that aunty and her daughter. The children just started singing- “ Humpty Dumpty…” I asked aunty curiously- “ Aunty, do you measure your weight in a weighing machine or a Richter scale?” and sang along “Humpty Dumty sat on a wall…” with the kids.

Gesticulating A Bribe..!!

The clock struck 7 when I woke up. I opened the main door, walked into the lawn with a yawn. I stood there and stretched trying for a peek at the rising sun. As I did that I noticed some object, thin like a cane, white in color with the sun in the background hurling towards me. Anything that’s hurling towards me was danger, of course. I wondered if it was a terrorist attack or if it was my ex- girl friend’s handy work. I pushed the panic button and went on a mission- Run-for-your-life. I turned around to run, but before I could gather any further thoughts or paces, it hit me on the back of my head and rebounded on to the ground. I dint fall and die at once. So, I looked around cautiously and then contemplated the object. I almost kicked myself when I observed that it was the newspaper, rolled and launched by my paper guy. I grabbed the newspaper and walked to the raised compound wall to find the paper guy. He stood with his bicycle wearing a straight face maybe wanting to kill me in real. I made an inverted hook with my eye-brow and gave him a hard long stare like a 1972 villain. It would have looked more poignant if someone flashed a red-light on my face. But anyway, he stood silent and made continuous movements with his head, looking at me for a second and looking at the ground for another second. I got a feeling he was run by a malfunctioned battery or something. Before I could say anything, he said sorry and escaped.

I went back in to the lawn, jumped onto the recliner. I unfolded the newspaper to see who died, who did a fraud, who kissed Rakhi Sawanth and to check the humour column (I mean, our politicians’ statements). The headline “ Seat belts compulsory for four-wheelers- Traffic Police” caught my eye. I live in a city where a day without a traffic jam is like a burger without the bun. I mean, the maximum speed I could achieve was about 30 kms/hr. All that a seat belt could do is to hold you back for a second thought in case you felt like running away getting mad of traffic. For me, seat belts in a city made no sense. On the other hand, there’s no such rule on a highway, where it at least made some sense. As the joke goes- “ If you can’t tighten your brakes, you make your horn louder” our government follows suit. They don’t repair roads but they impose a helmet rule (for instance). And this one- “ You are invited for lunch tomorrow. By the way it’s your funeral tonight.” I’m talking about the rosy post-dated cheque the government offers to the dead person’s family.


Anyway, I walked back inside, showered, readied myself to leave for a friend’s marriage function and left. I drove my car along at 20 kms/hr without a seat belt and with no prizes for guessing at all, a traffic police inspector spotted & stopped me. “Oh these idiotic pot bellies..” I said to myself and pulled up the car by the pavement. “Bring your Driving license and Insurance papers here,” he demanded. I searched for my license card and found it. I examined the web-cam-captured-photo on my License card and got irritated all over again. I looked like one of those Arab terrorists after being captured & tortured. When I found the insurance papers, I was amazed to realize that my car was insured while I was not. But anyway I was still a student. So, with both the documents I walked up to that damn inspector. He examined them and said to me as if he was so hurt by my bad behavior- “ You look to be educated and decent. Why do you break the rules?” Man, if he deduced that I look decent by looking at that photo, he should immediately be shown to a neurologist. Anyway, he almost cried at me and asked-“ Why sir? Why? No seat belt?” I tried to remember the last instance when my own parents got so worried about me. I couldn’t even remember.

He then finally, like as if he lost speech, told me- “500 rupees sir.”

“What the f……” I controlled myself before I could say that word and continued-“ What? How much? Why?”

He said bluntly- “That’s the fine. No seat belt, illegal number plate and the tinted glass is too dark.”
Crap. These idiots come up with something or the other. I wanted to say to him –“ I’m not educated nor decent. Will you give me a concession?” But I dint. It’s better not to mess with these ‘drum bellies’. I said- “ I have just 100 rupees with me” though I had much more.

“No Sir. The fine is 500 rupees”, he said.

It looked like a silly game when I repeated my sentence for another 5 to 6 times, he too repeated his sentence that many times. But then, after few more repetitions in different tones, the deal was done. 100 rupees. For a fact, I’m very talented. But the point is, this was a bribe, not a fine. The actual fine would have also just come up to around 200 bucks, not 500, but one just couldn’t argue with these traffic inspectors. More you argue, more the fine would grow.

Meanwhile, as I searched for the 100 bucks, a beggar came by and begged for money. I digged out Rs110 and passed it to the beggar and told him to keep 10 bucks and pass the rest to the police guy. He did so promptly.
Before the policeman could realize my heartfelt gesture, I escaped from there just like my paper guy.

14, 40, 86 and dead. Still a Social Servant..!!

My age was 14. I was known for my social service.

Class 9, section ‘A’, 3:30 pm, History class. What fed our ears were- occasional snores, whispered gossips and somewhere in the background the voice of our teacher who was somewhere in a battlefield in or around the 1900’s. Sitting next to me on my left was the school captain. He was staring at his pen with his chin on the bench since more than ten minutes now. I whispered to him- “What did you have for lunch?” Dint get a reply. I bent forward to look at his face. To my astonishment he was sleeping and that too with half an eye open, like a devil. I realised history was better, so opened my ears for some history lessons. Only then I realized that ma’am was actually dictating notes. So, bad luck. I then, looked to the guy on my right, Roshan. He was smiling but sleeping. Weird guy, really. I imagined a bash on his silly face. It felt nice. Then, I scanned around my surrounding benches only to find a few more of such sleeping Einsteins and a few irksome faces giving me a stare as if they saw my face after 500 years. I couldn’t sleep while the sun was out, that was my main problem. Also, I felt bad for the teacher. But mainly, I was known as the guy who had a golden heart.
I took a deep breath, bashed on Roshan’s smiling, sleeping face and immediately stood up and said loud- “ Ma’am I have a doubt.” Roshan looked clueless.

This move was like pouring ice-cold water on sleeping people. Everyone woke up in astonishment. “WTF? Arjun has a doubt?” was the line doing the rounds. A few pinched on my back. “He doubted history? Oh my god!” were also making rounds. Ma’am was almost about to shed tears of joy, but controlled herself and asked- “What’s that doubt, my boy?”

There were [(61*2)+2] eyeballs gaping at me. I looked at my watch, it was about 10seconds for the bell. On the other hand I dint want to disappoint my fans (classmates).

While everyone wondered what could be that mystery behind history that I was about to ask, I looked at ma’am, smiled and asked- “ When is Sports day?” Trrnnggggg.. The bell rang. There was a huge roar in the class and everyone laughed with words like- jackass, stupid, dumbo,…etc emanating from here and there. Ma’am was staring at me with a weird expression as if she had just spotted the joker in a circus and finally said in disgust- “ What stupid bunch of guys these are!” and left the class. Poor lady, she would say nothing worse.
Everyone packed their bags, and while leaving they all said to me- “ Thanks macha, for waking us up. Thanks for the social service.” I thought of giving them flowers but just said- “ That’s my pleasure. Now get lost.”



My age was 40. I was known for social service.

4pm. Me, my mom and my wife. A saree showroom.

For the first time in my life, I was reminded of the fact that I too was just a normal human being and I too make mistakes. I mean, I just couldn’t believe that I was there for saree shopping with two women. I was sitting in the waiting hall since two hours now, while the dangerous duo of ‘daughter-in-law and mother-in-law’ were selecting sarees to purchase. There were two more middle-class gentlemen to my left who also wore expressions of helplessness, waiting for their wives I suppose. I dint know them personally, but we had similar problems at this point of time. That meant we could be friends with just as much as a snap of the finger. Anyway, I stood up and asked them- “ Shall we go have a cup of coffee?” They looked at me as if I said- “ You are released from Central Jail.” We introduced ourselves and left for coffee. We had a nice cup of coffee and a plate of samosas and I paid for it. By the time we strolled back to the showroom, we were like friends forever. The guy at the billing counter was watching the cricket match in his small little portable TV. I requested him to turn his TV slightly towards us and he did so without a word. I bought three cups of flavoured ‘American Corn’ and we all ate while we watched the match. Just as we thought we were enjoying this, my lady parade arrived after purchasing 3 sarees. I said to the gentlemen- “It was nice meeting you, but I’m happy to say I’m the luckiest. I’m the first one to leave” and smiled. They fell to my feet and with tears flowing from their eyes and said- “I can never forget this favour of yours for my lifetime, Sir. I’ll build a temple in your name.” No, they actually dint say that. They just said- “ Thank You Sir. It was a pleasure meeting you. And yeah! Thanks for the social service.”


My age was 86. I was known for social service.

On a hospital bed. Breathing heavily. Lost into thoughts.

After all the ups and downs in life I went back to my native village to spend the rest of my life. My son was one useless human being. One thing he dint do is- kick me out of his house mainly because I came out before he would do it. So, here in my village, the news had spread that I had written a ‘will’ which says- all my property and the fields would go to the farmers of my locality after I die. Every morning, when I sat outside my small house reading a newspaper, I used to be greeted by the farmers passing by with– “Good Morning babuji.” But it sounded more like- “When will you die babuji?”
I also had read somewhere that- “When you've told someone that you've left them a legacy the only decent thing to do is to die at once.”

So here I was, lying in a hospital bed as weak as a dog’s tail and coughing away long and hard. With every minute my breath became shorter, my coughs became louder. Suddenly, I felt the air rushing out of me, I coughed loudly and forcefully and that was my last breath.

Now here I am, dead in the coffin. A farmer came by, spread a garland on my body, came close and cried softly- “ Though you died so late, you left us all with a future and happiness. Thank you babuji.” Though he sounded real, I would have slapped him if I was alive. He continued- “ We farmers will always remember your social service.”
So, my next destination is Heaven, of course. Looking forward for some social service there.


(Now, I hope you don’t have hearts made of stones. So, don’t abuse me for this totally senseless piece of crap. That way, you too would be a social servant ;) )