As you know, I am that omnipresent entity that runs across your city, your village and highways.
Though you see me and use me everyday, yet you may never have had the time to pause and listen to my story.
Today there is an opportunity. And ironically these thoughts which I now share with you, are of those times when none of you were on the roads.
As I was alone and unfettered by my duties to carry the weight of your feet and motor tyres, it gave me time to reflect on few aspects of life.
But first, let me say something about myself in the below prose –
Made from asphalt, concrete and covered with melting tar,
I stretch like a ribbon so wide and far!
Black and beautiful, I am your journey's lifeline,
Always there for you, come rain or shine!
So, without further ado let me show you some of my pictures and you can also read my thoughts as you go along 🙂
Frame 1
It is a bright sunny day today!
White fluffy clouds dot the vista. My mind as clear as the blue sky above, stretches its horizons in limitless directions.
I feel ecstatic.
Frame 2
Uh-oh, looks like I spoke too soon! Ashen coloured clouds suddenly appear on the skyline.
Isn’t this like life itself? Bright and clear in one moment; dark and cloudy in the next.
Frame 3
But that is how the changing seasons are a part of life and make it worth living!
Thunder rumbles and the rain drops make tiny splashes on my surface.
It cools me and refreshes my soul.
Frame 4
I look like a river of orange! I think I am in love with the setting sun.
It reflects its glow on me and embraces me in its warmth 🙂
Frame 5
You have put up a barricade at my entrance. Otherwise I know nothing of boundaries. I stretch freely from The Golden Temple in the North to Cheramaan JumaMosque in the South and from Sri Jagannath Temple in the East to Basilica of Bom Jesus in the West.
I lead you to all of them and do not differentiate on the basis of your religion or sect.
Frame 6
Sometimes life does turn upside down.
It could be in the darkness of the night or in the light of the day. Someone we love might pass away!
Yet we must re-set and move on the road of life.
Frame 7
Time brings down the curtains to the day.
Everything now falls silent, as the night engulfs us all and puts us to sleep. Only to awaken another day and face life with renewed vigour and optimism.
This work of fiction written, photographed and conceptualized by Wasim Jawaid is the author’s sole intellectual property. All rights are reserved. No part of this story may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including printing, photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author. For permission requests, send an email to the author wasim.jawaid@gmail.com
“Only those who risk going too far can possibly find out how far they can go.”
T.S. Eliot
Dear Reader,
Sometimes a road is used as a metaphor for life and there are many thoughts around it. It is said that the journey is more important than the destination.
A road encapsulates all our travels and sometimes it helps us introspect on where we are going and where we would like to go.
Do share your thoughts below on this thoughtful/thinking road!
The call couldn’t have come at a worse time. It was my colleague Ranjan asking for the keys to the office door. How stupid of me to have carried them with me when I left office, I thought to myself.
Exasperated, I smacked my forehead letting out an expletive, alarming my wife who was sitting right across me. “What happened?!”
“I have carried the keys with me when I was supposed to have left them with the security guard at the gate. Now Ranjan is at the office and he has to work the night shift.”
Abhik and Rimi were seated at a swanky Café enjoying a cup of coffee. It was her birthday today and he had just ordered a small cake to celebrate her special day. “Now what?”, she asked with an incredulous expression on her face.
I already knew the answer. I dreaded saying it aloud. I would have to go back all the way to office. There was no other option. For security reasons, few files which could be accessed only while in office, were part of this project and the deadline to submit it was tomorrow.
In fact, Ranjan and me had discussed this already in the morning today. The understanding was since I would be the last to leave work (as was my wont everyday) I would drop the keys with the Security Desk at the entrance to the Office Block. Ranjan after completing his client visit would come, collect it and access work at his convenience.
The office was at least 30-35 minutes away in evening traffic. It would take almost an hour to complete the return trip! With a morose look on my face I started getting up from my chair. I genuinely wanted to spend time with my wife tonight even if it was just the 2 of us celebrating her birthday as an exclusive private affair.
“Wait, I have an idea” interjected Rimi. “Why don’t you call Ranjan and ask him to come half-way? Then at least you could save some time.” Trust women to come up with practical solutions to everyday problems. My mind muddled up due to the long day at work, lit up with this suggestion. “Yes of course. That will indeed help save time!”
I immediately called up Ranjan who picked it up on the 3rd ring. “Dude listen I will drive up to Jaydev Vihar. Can you please come over to the traffic signal there? I can hand over the keys to you.” Jaydev Vihar was only 20 odd minutes from the Café where we were presently sitting. Luckily, Ranjan who was a good sport did not make any fuss about this additional work he would have to undertake. He had his bike handy and agreed to meet me at the designated signal.
2 hours earlier
I was getting late in office. I had promised Rimi that I would be meeting her in The Café to celebrate her birthday with a coffee, cake and dinner before we both head home. It was a newly opened outlet and was located close to her office.
Rimi was always keen to try out new joints which kept popping up in different corners of the city. Be it a fashion store or a dining joint or even a mundane supermarket opening, Rimi had to be there. This exasperated me a few times, but I loved my wife a lot and to please her I would accompany her on most of these ‘LTIO’ (Let’s Try It Out) trips.
On most of these LTIO visits we would rarely purchase anything. Household budgets every month would normally be tight. Yet the fact that she visited a store, explored it and saw what all they had to offer delighted her. It was in this happiness that I found my own.
Rimi’s mood would considerably lighten up and when we reached home the discussions on the various stuff we had seen or purchased could very well carry over onto the next day. We normally had a LTIO trip practically every week.
We had been married 9 years now and next year we would be celebrating a decade of togetherness. How time flies! Like most couples we have had our share of ups and downs but somehow we had stuck together. Our only regret was that we had been unable to start a family.
As a couple we suffered from what the doctor diagnosed as unexplained infertility. Both of us had undergone various tests and declared to be medically fit yet somehow those damned eggs would not get fertilized. We did weigh other options but had not acted on any of those yet, aware that time was running out. It had moved from the middle rungs in our resolution list of previous years, to the top this year.
Children or not, I was genuinely fond of my wife and took extra care to meet her expectations on few of her idiosyncrasies. Celebrating birthdays was also one of them.
Not only was Rimi obsessed with her own birthday but also that of everyone else around her. Even if it was a small get together with a gift or pleasantries exchanged and an evening well spent, it was enough. It need not be a grand affair.
So, when I proposed that just the 2 of us do a LTIO at this new joint and celebrate her birthday, she was more than happy to do it!
Anyways I finally managed to wrap up my work and quickly shut down my system. Rimi had pinged me a couple of times saying she was already seated in the café. I hated to keep anyone waiting. Period.
It gave rise to feelings of anxiety in me. Whether it was a client, my colleague and even more importantly my wife, I simply disliked making another person wait. I valued time and sometimes despite making a best effort I could not stick to my schedule. That really was one of my biggest drawbacks and irritated me no end.
So, it was in this frame of mind that I hurriedly switched off the office AC, lights and closed the door behind me. I took long quick strides, practically cantering to where my bike was and impatiently pulled it out of the parking lot. I almost hit a stationary Scooty parked next to my 2-wheeler and drove off with a sense of urgency gripping my thought process.
Handing over the office key at the Security desk was the last thing on my mind.
Present Moment
Within a couple of hours, I found myself again in a similar position and in a similar state of mind as I raced on my bike towards the meeting point with Ranjan. Traffic had worsened compared to an hour earlier as an unseasonal drizzle had bought chaos on the roads.
Vehicles slowed down considerably and yet everyone seemed to be in a hurry to reach their destinations.
I negotiated the traffic with a mix of impatience and hurling the choicest of expletives under my breath, at my fellow commuters. Whenever you are in a hurry to reach somewhere, time seems to stretch interminably. So, after what seemed to be an unending drive (when in fact it was just 20 minutes since I started from the café) I managed to reach the Jaydev Vihar crossing. I quickly scanned the area hoping to see Ranjan parked somewhere.
But he was not to be seen.
For a moment I was tempted to dial him but knew my friend would be driving in this same dense traffic as well. I had no choice but to show restraint and wait.
After what seemed to be an eternity, I could finally see a rain-soaked figure driving over cautiously to where I stood. The rain had increased in intensity and under the cover of the raincoat and with a helmet on, it took a few seconds for me to recognise him.
“Man, you owe me a drink for making me come out in this rain. I should have been seated snugly now, sipping a hot cup of tea at my desk. You on a special date with Rimi?”.
If that smirk was accompanied with a wink, I would not have been able to see it in the darkness. “Sorry dude. But thanks a million for coming over half-way. I have to rush back as she is waiting at the café.”
“Ok carry on,” saying this Ranjan took the keys and headed back to office.
Chapter 2– Conclusion
Now that the key was handed over, I felt a bit relieved. At least the part of my responsibility towards work was over. Now it was the turn of my personal life. I had to go back to where my dear wife was waiting with her birthday cake.
I knew I had to hurry.
A sense of regret had started creeping in my mind, that if only I had remembered to stop briefly and dropped the keys while leaving office, things would not have come to this urgency.
Though Rimi was a good sport and showed patience unlike some other women I knew, I could not test her any further. I drove a bit recklessly realizing I may have to break a couple of rules in order to cut time short.
Just one more traffic junction to go before the Café and I would soon re-join her!
That thought galvanised me and I was now just 50 meters away from the signal. I saw it was already green and maybe it had been so since the past few seconds. I revved up the accelerator and hoped it stayed open for some more time. It was a busy square shaped junction and If I could beat this, I could easily save at least 2-3 minutes until the signal would complete its clockwise round and come back to green again.
Just before I reached the crossing, the signal turned amber and I knew I would have to take a risk and break it. It was red as I crossed it realizing other commuters on my left, where the signal had turned green had already begun to move.
At first, I did not pay attention to the big, dark object driving towards me from my left. Frankly I did not even see it, as I was only focussed on surging ahead. It was only when it was just a couple of feet away, that a feeling of surprise and shock gripped my heart. The vehicle was moving towards me and moving fast.
When I was almost half-way through the junction, I felt the first impact of the collision.
It sent my bike skidding on the wet, slippery road dragging me underneath it. The front tyres of the SUV made a loud, sickening sound as metal crashed against metal. It ran over my upper torso and for a split second I could feel the air being squeezed out of my body as if a giant beast had sat upon me. The rear tyres of the vehicle crushed my legs and I could feel excruciating pain shoot up throughout my body.
As flowing blood met flowing rainwater, all the noises around me went eerily hollow. It was as if I was being carried away to a faraway land. The final image that crossed my mind was that of my beloved wife sitting alone at the café with her birthday cake waiting for me to arrive.
Then blackness enveloped me completely.
………………………………………
The man walked with a slight limp as he made his way into the café, skirting around the tables filled with raucous laughter and the gay evening mood.
Rimi saw him only when he was a few feet away from her table, busy as she was fiddling with her mobile phone.
He seemed to have moved in silently almost invisible to others.
His face looked pale and he seemed to be walking, as if in a trance.
“Oh, so you are back finally! I have been waiting to cut this cake,” said Rimi.
He merely nodded and smiled. He clapped both his hands softly as she blew the single candle and sliced the knife deep into her birthday cake.
She offered him a bite to eat and then had rest of the slice herself. She noticed he was standing quietly, still holding his piece of the cake.
By now, the family seated next to their table, were looking curiously in her direction.
Somehow a strange feeling of unease gripped her heart and she was not sure why.
It was only when she hugged him in a loving embrace, did she realize that she was wrapping herself around thin air.
She swooned once before she crashed onto the floor unconscious.
The End
This story is not complete without the mention of Ritwicka Banerjee, an awesomely, talented artist! Her painting done in acrylic and oil has been created specifically for my story and gives it a visual imagery.
phantasmicart (her Insta Id) -your creativity is amazing! Thank you so much 🙂
This work of fiction, written by Wasim Jawaid is the author’s sole intellectual property. All rights are reserved. No part of this story may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including printing, photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author.For permission requests, send an email to the author wasim.jawaid@gmail.com
Dear Reader,
When we are on the roads, we must remember to be careful and drive safe.
For there is always someone, somewhere waiting for us, looking forward to our return.
Do share your thoughts and comments below on the story. I look forward to hearing from you!
It had been an unusually long day, thought Jubilee as she took the elevator to the 3rd floor of her apartment. It was located in Bur Dubai- historically one of the oldest parts of dazzling Dubai.
The area was on the western side of Dubai Creek. It always seemed bustling with life as residential buildings jostled for space with 24×7 stores, hotels and street side joints serving anything and everything – from dosas and samosas, to biryani and kebabs, to the more local Middle Eastern cuisines including falafel* and the delectable shawarma** coupled with hummus.
Most of the country’s expat crowd lived in box life apartments stacked next to each other. If there was ever an example to be given for a cosmopolitan cocoon, this would be it.
Your neighbours in the adjoining flats could be as diverse as the colours on an artist’s palette. They could be a Pakistani family, a Lebanese businessman or even a group of Russian girls peddling their services as escorts in the innumerable night clubs across the city.
Jubilee who had celebrated her 38th birthday a few weeks ago, was an attractive looking lady. Marriage and motherhood had only enhanced her beauty over the years. She was tall, dusky with an impish smile! Right now she was wearing a beige coloured skirt with a slightly darker shaded brown top, the sleeves of which extended up to her elbows. All this was matched with fawn coloured sandals, giving her a sleek fashionable look.
Jubilee’s family had moved here only 2 weeks ago as this locality was much closer to her kids’ school than the previous one. The school bus stop was just 100 meters away from this building. Moreover, the metro station was simply a 10 minute walk, ferrying her husband daily and depositing him almost in front of his office. Oh, to have such convenience in a city like Dubai was indeed a blessing!
The elevator door finally opened on her floor and she took quick strides to her apartment and unlocked it. The cool waft of the AC welcomed her arrival into the empty flat. She dropped her handbag and plonked herself on the sofa.
It felt good to be back in the pleasant confines of her house. Temperatures above 40 °C scorched the desert kingdom outside. She had been outdoors most of the time today.
The school bus of both her kids was off the road. The school authorities had simply texted a terse message in the morning to all parents informing them of a breakdown in the bus engine. So, could they ferry their wards today, both ways? It simply ended with an apology for the inconvenience caused.
(Middle East follows a Fri-Sat weekend schedule)
If that was not enough, it coincided with her weekly shopping excursion to the supermarket. Later both kids, post lunch had wanted to spend some time at a common friends’ house. So, she had dropped them there and as agreed would pick them up a couple of hours’ later.
Jubilee was a proud Mom to 2 daughters – the elder Luvena and younger Solaina. While the younger was the sober one, Luvena was a live-wire and handling her sometimes left Jubilee exhausted! Yet there was no other happiness on Earth just to spend time with them and hug them to sleep with a bedtime story.
So yes, here she was finally with some moments for herself. That was also essential; to have some me-time, when she could just chill and relax on her own. Her hubby would return from work only around 8 pm. That made her check the time on her mobile phone screen. It was closing in on 6 pm.
So, she had a good 2 hours to unwind before she needed to start cooking dinner, pick up the kids and invest in some family affairs.
It would also be almost 7.30 pm in India now. (India is 90 minutes ahead of U.A.E) This made her think about her ageing parents in Bhubaneswar and she wondered what they would be doing. Most likely her mother would be having her evening snack- a bowl filled to the brim with ripe succulent slices of papaya, to take care of her constipation and her father would be tuned into the evening news.
Jubilee did not want to be disturbed for the next one hour at least. First, she decided she would take a nice relaxing shower. Then maybe she would watch some Tv. The thought of the cold water hitting her body reinvigorated her as she quickly got up from the sofa and proceeded to her bedroom.
Same Evening -Sunday 7.30 pm, Mumbai
The bedroom was in complete darkness. Sarita woke up with a start. Oh God! I have overslept, she thought to herself. She had planned on taking a short nap but at some point the exertion of daily life had taken its toll.
Thunder rolled in the distance warning of impending rain. It must be that sound which woke me up, thought Sarita.
She got up quickly from her bed, feeling around for her mobile in the darkness. She found it and turned on the torch app. She stepped out into the narrow corridor which led to the spacious living room cum dining hall.
Why was the entire house in darkness? She flicked on a couple of switches and realised there was no power at all.
Sarita who was in her early 40’s was an effervescent personality. Whoever came in contact with her, could not help but fall in love with her cheerful, bubbly self. She was a typical Aries – passionate, energetic and confident at almost everything! She was a bit chubby and that only added to her overall cuteness factor.
Her family had moved in only a couple of months ago into this building. It was a very old one- dating back to almost 2 decades; but her reason for moving in were almost the same as that of her friend Jubilee’s- proximity to her hubby’s office as well as to their kids’ school.
With the ever increasing traffic in the Maximum City, daily commuting had become a burden. This move meant sacrificing their previous modern furnished apartment but on the flip side this gave them more time to pursue activities other than just their work.
Being the home maker she knew there were no candles left in the house. She had intended to purchase some since the past week but each time it had slipped her mind or she had simply procrastinated leaving the errand unfinished.
Sarita changed her slippers into her walking shoes and stepped out into the foyer. There was a small convenience store just across the street.
She let out a sigh of dismay as she realized she needed to walk down and then back again over 6 flights of stairs.
A sudden roll of thunder brought a sense of urgency in her and quickly closing the main door, she stepped out.
She glared at the closed steel doors of the elevator in mock anger; which in turn stared back at her, standing like a cold, silent spectator to her obvious discomfort.
………………………………………………………………..
By now, Jubilee had collected her towel and change of clothes for the evening from her bedroom closet and headed for the bathroom.
She pushed open the bathroom door, but it would not budge. Surprised she looked at the bolt securing it from the outside. It was locked. She smiled and pulled it back.
She tried to push it open again. It refused to yield. This time with her palm open and her body weight on the door she pushed against it with force but the result still remained the same.
It was then that she realised that the door had been locked both from the inside as well as outside.
………………………………………………………………..
Sarita huffed and puffed her way up the stairs and back to her flat. The exercise yet again underscored the fact that covering any distance on flat ground was starkly different to covering the same over a flight of stairs.
Her husband, Shirish with both their kids – an elder son Shlok and daughter Ira, were at her in-laws’ place. He had gone to catch up with his parents’ well-being and the three of them would be back only post dinner.
Her reasons for not going were dual – Not only was she feeling a bit under the weather today but also in no mood to meet her in-laws and especially face her mom-in-law’s acrid tongue. So, she had decided to stay back and catch up on some sleep.
She lit up a couple of candles in the hall and got hold of the emergency lantern from the wooden cabinet. The lantern was a delicate hand-made glass piece crafted with intricate artwork and purchased during one of their exotic holidays to Turkey a couple of years ago.
Clutching it in one hand she started walking back to her bedroom.
Even as she approached it, she could feel something was not right. She slowed down her steps and realised the bedroom door was shut. Did she close the door when she had left her flat a few minutes ago? She was unsure. She never did that normally.
Gingerly she shifted the lantern onto her left hand and placed her right hand on the door knob and turned. It stayed put. She tried once more, a bit harder this time. It did not yield.
With her uneasiness growing she realised that someone had locked the door from inside.
………………………………………………………………..
Jubilee stood perplexed. How was this possible? The door had been alright when she had left the apartment a few hours earlier. She again tried pushing it open, this time with more force thinking that maybe she was missing something.
Just as she was about to step away, she thought she heard a sound coming from within the bathroom. As if someone was moving a chair around. It was a scraping sound; wood against floor.
A chair was being dragged on the floor! But why? And by whom? But for herself, there was no one else present in the house.
With a growing sense of alarm she stood in front of the door watching it, unsure of what to do next.
………………………………………………………………..
Sarita felt sure that she had left the bedroom door open when she had stepped out a few minutes earlier.
Yet the door was now closed. Not only that, it was locked too. Had there been a strong gust of wind which had shut the door? Yes, that was possible. She had seen the weather turn for the worse when she was outside.
A storm was building up. Not unusual at this time of the year in Mumbai. The monsoon was in full force!
Just as she was about to step away, she thought she heard a distinct sound from behind the door. She quickly put her ears against it.
Someone was moving around in her bedroom! The sound was unmistakable-shuffling of feet on the floor. But who? But for herself, there was no one else present in the house.
Suddenly she heard a slow sobbing sound from the room. A girl’s voice! Whoever it was, she seemed to be in pain- heart wrenching sobs cloaked in deep anguish came from within.
Sarita felt herself going cold.
At that instant, a sudden stroke of lightning and thunder surprised her. She stepped back hurriedly and thudded against the wall behind her dropping the exquisite lantern onto the floor.
The crash made a deafening noise in the empty flat with the glass breaking into a hundred pieces.
She stood trembling as darkness engulfed her once again.
To be continued…
Falafel* A deep-fried patty made from ground chickpeas, fava beans, or both. Falafel is commonly served wrapped in a pita like a sandwich.
Shawarma** is a dish consisting of meat cut into thin slices, stacked in a cone-like shape, and roasted on a slowly-turning vertical fire spit.
Hummus*** is a dip or a spread made from cooked, mashed chickpeas blended with olive oil, lemon juice, and garlic.
This work of fiction, written by Wasim Jawaid is the author’s sole intellectual property. All rights are reserved. No part of this story may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including printing, photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author. For permission requests, send an email to the author wasim.jawaid@gmail.com
Jubilee was trying her best to quell the rising sense of panic. Everything inside the bathroom seemed to be still now. She held the door handle again and furiously tried to yank it open. To no avail. It stayed locked.
“Who’s in there?!” she shouted, banging on the door a few times but all her calls were met only with a stony silence from the other side.
She strained her ears to the door again. All was quiet. She breathed a bit normally. Maybe she was just imagining things.
Just then she heard someone hum. A female voice! Jubilee stepped back abruptly as if an unseen hand had slapped her.
It was a sad melancholy tune and the person humming it seemed to be in some untold grief.
The voice drifted out slowly, wrapped in mystery and Jubilee could feel the hair on her arms bristle and stand erect.
………………………………………………………………..
“Ira, is that you?”, cried Sarita in alarm. No sound came from behind the door. Teenagers sometimes behaved in a weird manner. Did her daughter have a fight with someone at her in-law’s place? Or had she been bored and come back early? If that was so, then where were the others?
“Ira, open the door for God’s sake!” she almost yelled in the empty flat. She thumped the door a few times, with an unknown fear increasing its grip on her with every passing moment. “What happened sweetheart, why are you crying?!”
For a moment everything went absolutely silent. The rain seemed to be falling at a distance and even the thunder had gone quiet.
Then just when she thought the crying had stopped, it started again. This time it was louder, more painful and heart wrenching. Who was it inside in so much agony?
An involuntary chill passed through her body, making Sarita shudder and go absolutely still.
………………………………………………………………..
Jubilee stood in the hall now where she was relaxing only a few minutes ago. She had run away from the bathroom door, no longer able to withstand the fear.
A dozen questions were slamming her head from all directions. Who was inside the bathroom? From where had a chair come inside it? She cast a quick glance across the hall and then the bedrooms. No piece of furniture seemed missing.
The drifting voice had instilled a sense of fear in her which she had never experienced before. There was so much sadness in it, yet it was chilling. She quickly remembered to dial her hubby’s mobile. A beep and then an engaged tone greeted her. He must be busy at work. Damn!
She gingerly started to step back towards the bathroom again. Her hand trembled as she got hold of the wall for support.
Just then she heard a loud thud come from behind the door. It was as if a chair had been toppled onto the floor with a crash! In the empty flat the sound reverberated like a bullet shot.
A sea of blackness swept over Jubilee as she fell unconscious to the floor.
………………………………………………………………..
The rain was pelting now. It had reached a crescendo and was being punctuated in between with shards of lightning and thunder.
Sarita could not hear a thing. She nervously put her head against the door again trying to catch any sound. By now she realized it was not Ira. Her daughter would not behave nor sound like this. Moreover, she could not have come back alone without her father and brother.
So if not Ira then who was it? Just as she moved to collect her mobile from the hall to call her hubby, a blood curdling scream pierced the night trailing off into the wet darkness.
Involuntarily Sarita put both her hands onto her ears and even as she stood in shock disbelief, the enormity of the fact hit her squarely on her senses.
(tap to play)
The girl had jumped off from one of the bedroom windows to her death below.
One Year Earlier; Bur Dubai, 6 pm
Surubhi was humming her favourite tune as she dragged the chair slowly across the bathroom floor.
This tune was a song which both the sisters had learnt from their father. They had grown up hearing it countless number of times until it had been imprinted on their minds.
When they were kids, Surubhi piggy backed on her beloved father’s shoulders and younger sibling Suruchi clasping her hand in his, walked alongside.
He would take them to the nearby park and along the way he would be humming this tune. The only difference was Surubhi always had happy memories associated with this melody.
Now as she hummed it, the strains had a ring of deep sadness around them.
This was because her best friend and her soulmate – her dear father Mohan had passed away under the most shocking circumstances. He used to run a shelter home for destitute women and their children back home in India. It was named Sewa Ashram. This year the local MLA had been invited for flag hoisting on Independence Day.
It was then that trouble started for her father and his sacred Institution.
The resident women of Sewa Ashram had recited the National Anthem and presented a short skit on the Independence struggle. Some of the children had presented a colourful song and dance routine. Overall, it had been a satisfactory affair. This was followed by a short speech from the MLA in which he praised Mohan Babu’s shelter home and the noble work he was pursuing.
What he did not mention was that he had already noticed a couple of women who had caught his fancy. His roving eyes had quickly taken note of their physical attractiveness and their mental vulnerability.
When her father had been away for a few weeks- he had spent a fabulous holiday with Surubhi and her children in Dubai- the shelter was left in charge of a Manager.
The Manager had been easily bribed by the henchmen of the politician. Initially it started with a couple of the women being forcibly taken away to a nearby guest house and dropped back the next morning. However, the carnal temptations of the politician and his coterie were too deep and their desires limitless.
Soon this started happening every night, leading to a chain of physical abuse and mental agony for the women until one of them gathered enough courage and called up their guardian Mohan Babu in Dubai. He had immediately taken the next available flight and landed at Sewa Ashram.
Police cases were filed and soon the shameful events were all over the media. Despite knowing he was up against powerful forces, Mohan knew he had to stand up for his inmates and bring them justice.
However he watched in dismay as not only the MLA managed to pull strings and get away unscathed but also the Manager pleaded not guilty shifting the entire blame onto Mohan. Some of the women inmates, threatened of dire consequences to them and their children by the MLA’s henchmen, became hostile witnesses turning against their beloved Mohan Babu.
His entire life’s dedication and hard work to a social cause lay in shambles. His own neighbours bayed for his blood. News reporters went after him demanding the strictest punishment possible.
On the morning of the incident a large mob had gathered outside the shelter home. A by-stander recorded the entire event on his mobile phone and it was soon viral on all leading Tv channels. Both sisters watched in shock and agony as their father was dragged out of his home by the crowd and beaten mercilessly. Who could dare to reason with a mob that had lost hold of their senses?
By the time the police had arrived and taken a bleeding Mohan to the hospital, he had suffered internal haemorrhage and was declared dead on arrival.
It had not even been 48 hours since her father’s death, that Surubhi’s husband had spoken of divorce. His family no longer wanted to be associated with a daughter-in-law of such ill repute. She had to pack her bags and leave Dubai. She had to sever ties with her only child too.
She knew life would never be the same again.
………………………………………………………………..
Now as Surubhi balanced herself on the chair inside the bathroom she closed her eyes for one final moment. She paused before taking the next step. Her father had gone the same place two evenings ago; she would follow him there- into the darkness, into oblivion- until she would meet him. Then there would be light.
Created by phantasmicart!
She pulled the red dupatta around her neck and tightened it against the hook on the bathroom’s ceiling. This was her guillotine. The hang man was ready.
The humming stopped as the chair swayed once before crashing onto the floor.
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One Year Earlier; Mumbai, 7.30 pm
Her elder sister had promised her it won’t hurt. It would be like entering into a dark tunnel but there would be light at the end of it and soon she would be re-united with her entire family- Surubhi, their mother and above all her beloved father!
Suruchi stood almost on the edge of the window ledge. City lights twinkled far below her and when she looked up stars sparkled gently in the night sky above. Soon, she would be there.
She had celebrated her 19th birthday with her college friends last week. There was a double reason for celebrations as in the same week she had landed an Internship at a prestigious firm where she would learn her craft. Life could not have been more perfect!
She had excitedly shared her happiness over phone with her dear father. During her birth, their mother had passed away. She no longer remembered her. For Suruchi her father was not only both parents, but also their buddy in whom she could confide all her fears and happiness.
How had their entire world come crashing down in the past 48 hours? Her father was gone; she still found it difficult to believe that. Surubhi would soon be gone too. Both sisters had agreed upon a common time to exit when they had spoken over the phone today.
Yes, she had to go now. The time had come. She was the youngest and they would all be waiting anxiously for her above.
Her mind was numb as she took a step forward balancing herself on the 6th floor window ledge of her Mumbai apartment. She had a mini statue, carved of sandalwood of her favourite deity on her study table. Suruchi whispered His name once.
She closed her eyes, took in a deep breath and jumped.
Present Day; Mumbai
Sarita lay slumped against the wall in front of her bedroom. The storm had subsided. The rains were gone but they had left behind tears which now welled up in her eyes.
Even as she watched, the bedroom door slowly and silently swung open, revealing the darkness beyond.
Concluded
Reader's Corner
1) Do you think Surubhi's and Suruchi's spirits would appear every year on the same day and in the same rooms where they took their lives?
2) Would the killers of Mohan would ever be punished? If yes, would both sisters get the redemption they deserve? Do leave your comments and thoughts on the story.
This story is not complete without the mention of Ritwicka Banerjee, student of NIFT, Bhubaneswar. Both her sketches done specifically for my story add heft to it. I hope you will agree.
phantasmicart (her Insta Id) -your creativity is amazing! Thank you so much 🙂
This work of fiction, written by Wasim Jawaid is the author’s sole intellectual property. All rights are reserved. No part of this story may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including printing, photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author. For permission requests, send an email to the author wasim.jawaid@gmail.com
About 30 members of Utkal Enclave – a small apartment block in Bhubaneswar, were getting ready and completing last minute packing of picnic baskets which they were carrying for the day’s trip.
About 10 families resided in this 4 storied Block in identical 2 and 3 BHK flats. The landowner Mr. Satish had partnered with a Real Estate developer some years ago and converted his ancestral bungalow into this modern residential set-up giving him a steady rental income.
Mrs. and Mr. Satish had 2 children, both of whom were settled and working outside Odisha. So it was to their pleasant surprise that they got more than what they had hoped for. Not only the monthly rents gave them financial comfort but the people residing there became their extended family providing both with a wonderful support system in their retired years.
It was winter vacations and like previous years the families had decided to go on a picnic with food and evening refreshments. Each of them had contributed to the menu and now with their hands full with the picnic baskets they made their way down to the 2 waiting TATA Wingers. These were 15-seater vehicles which would take them across to the picnic site.
While last year it was The Botanical Gardens in Nandan Kanan, this year the chosen destination was the Bamboo Huts at Deras Dam. It was located only 25 odd km from the city making it an ideal getaway for family and friends. There were quaint bamboo cottages near it which one could book and enjoy the time there.
Very soon they were set to go and being punctual was on top of every one’s agenda. It was already 3 pm and the plan was to reach before dusk so that they could catch the sun set over the forest tops while sipping their evening tea. They were all looking forward to a picnic packed with fun, laughter & some time pass idle chatter.
Of course, the gorgeous views of the Deras Dam waters and greenery all around just added to the overall anticipation.
Other than the sumptuous array of snacks, a live barbeque and a giant bonfire also awaited them. It was no wonder then that all of them, especially the children were eagerly looking forward to the trip.
What they did not know that tonight something else was also awaiting them atop that hillock.
Both the picnic vehicles arrived at the gates within few minutes of each other. The forest department vehicles would ferry them to the huts and one of them would stay back for the return trip. The strict rules banning entry of private cars inside protected green zones meant both the rented Wingers had to be parked outside the gates.
All of them clambered into the official vehicles, their excitement running high anticipating a grand affair atop the hillock at dusk!
However no one knew the colour of dusk tonight would take on a completely different hue matching the fear in their eyes…a colour none of them had seen or felt before.
Chapter 2
Despite their best efforts the families realised they had arrived late. It was already close to 5 pm. A stop at a small roadside dhaba for fritters had taken up a little more time than they would have liked.
Being winter the day light was already beginning to fade. The sun after completing its hard day’s work in trying to keep up the mercury was all set to chill down on the western side.
They were now in groups of 4-5 making their way up the dirt path to the bamboo huts. Since the entire place had been booked for Utkal Enclave there were no other people now except them.
The climb was soon coming to an end. What was also coming to an end was the tranquillity of the evening.
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A slight breeze had picked up in the green foliage above & the sun light ebbed lower…as if someone had lowered the wick of an old oil lantern.
The group was now standing at the end of the steps. The table top picnic spot lay in front of them with the bamboo huts to their left. Coloured plastic chairs had been neatly arranged by the staff for them to sit and enjoy.
However a shocking scene awaited them all. A scene so horrifyingly fascinating that even the most fearful amongst them had also not imagined it possible.
It was beyond any horror flick they had ever seen…and it was happening right now at this moment in their lives.
This work of fiction, written by Wasim Jawaid is the author’s sole intellectual property. All rights are reserved. No part of this story may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including printing, photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author. For permission requests, send an email to the author wasim.jawaid@gmail.com
However a shocking scene awaited them all. A scene so horrifyingly fascinating that even the most fearful amongst them had also not imagined it possible.
It was beyond any horror flick they had ever seen…and it was happening right now at this moment in their lives.
Chapter 3
The sight in front of them seemed unreal. Not a single chair was empty. Seated in each of the 30 chairs was a member of the group. ALREADY.
They were staring across at mirror images of themselves. As if someone had placed a giant canvas of live multiple selfies in front of them!
Involuntarily all of them shuddered and huddled closer. The air suddenly seemed to be charged with a sinister tinge. A stray dog’s bark from nearby seemed to indicate it was the only one with a voice at that moment. The rest of them all were shell shocked into silence.
Nagma looked at her own seated self. The other Nagma was staring right back with eyes that were unblinking, unwavering. Those eyes seemed to have an un-earthly glow in them. Her smile seemed to have been frozen in a twisted curve.
Nagma had experienced fear many times before in her life. But what she did not know was that it could exist in this form too.
Pritish who worked as an HR executive at a top tech firm was standing almost at the front of the group. He let out an unprintable expletive and stood transfixed. The first thing he noticed was his favourite cap that the other Pritish was wearing. It was exactly similar.
With a startled look he quickly realised that not only the cap but right from his maroon sweatshirt to his blue denims and to the “Just Do It” logo on his shoes- everything was eerily similar. Had the other Pritish copied his style or was it vice versa?
Hena could not fathom what was happening and why. She closed her eyes and felt her heart beats quicken. A strange fear gripped her.
Someone with a distorted sense of humour had created a weird art piece.
(Art by Subhajit. A talented youngster in NIFT, Bhubaneshwar)
Sofia the popular Odia Tv star had already done a couple of double roles in her acting career. But the same happening in real life came as a shock. She did a quick scan of the seated group and sure enough found the ‘other’ Sofia. That person seemed to be saying something to her but by the time the words reached her they seemed to be swallowed by the breeze.
Was it even in her language? Sofia simply could not comprehend their meaning.
Mrs.Premalata Mishra, a retired school teacher resided with her septuagenarian husband on the 1st floor in Flat 101. Feeling a bit under the weather her spouse had backed out of the picnic.
Immediately Mrs. Mishra regretted coming with the group and the thought crossed her mind that she should have stayed back home with him and watched her favourite TV serial instead.
Sushree’s thoughts already in alarm mode went immediately to Pratik, her only child and teenage son. She was a bit comforted to see his tall, familiar figure standing nearby shrouded in darkness. They resided in Flat 305 and suddenly the warmth of their home seemed far away!
But what did not comfort her was a feeling that an unknown pair of eyes were piercing into her. She looked in that direction & sure enough the other Sushree seemed to be beckoning her towards herself with a slight nod of the head.
Sushree touched the sweat bead forming on her forehead. It seemed strangely cold on her hot feverish skin.
All this was happening simultaneously and in a matter of seconds! The temperature of the place had dropped un-naturally.
Despite trying hard to control herself Sunanda could not stop the involuntary shudders passing through her. She was a nature lover and had been really looking forward to this trip. This was totally unexpected! It was as if she had stepped on a live voltage wire. Unable to take it any longer she hurriedly sat down on one of the steps.
13-year-old Srishti felt her 6-year-old sister Shreyasi’s little fingers wrap around hers and tighten as if seeking protection. Her own pink dress seemed to be stifling her and sticking to her back – drenched in a mix of sweat and fear.
Chapter 4
At the far end of the picnic spot was a watch tower overlooking the rolling greens and blue waters below. A staircase made of wood with bamboo railings wound its way to the top. Many a tourist who had come here earlier had climbed them up and sat on the mini platform atop enjoying the breeze while munching away goodies.
Pooja was an NRI and resided in the UK. She was visiting her brother in this Christmas vacations. She was a devout believer in God and was now reciting a powerful mantra furiously under her breath. She was standing just opposite to this tower. Now as if guided by an unseen force her eyes fell upon it.
Immediately there was a quick intake of her breath! Standing on the platform with his hands resting on the railings was a dark hooded figure. It seemed to be looking down at them. It stood absolutely still & for a moment Pooja thought maybe she was imagining its presence. She wasn’t sure anymore to believe her eyes.
By now Monica, who was a neighbour of Mrs. Premalata Mishra had somehow collected her wits and managed to herd all the children together including hers. She made a dash down the path which all of them had ascended upon only a few minutes earlier.
However, to her it seemed that was ages ago!
Suddenly a realization hit Monica with a sharp thud and she felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. There was only 1 car at the bottom of the hill, and they were 30 of them. Escape for all together no longer seemed an easy possibility now.
In this children party was 15-year-old Anum. In her mundane existence until today she had always craved for some excitement in life. This thrill however was even more than what she had bargained for. She swore under her breath as she rushed downhill with a flashlight in her hand. She quickly paused to have one final look at the scene.
What she saw made her blood chill and she froze to the spot. With her heart hammering and her mouth turning dry she let out a piercing scream!
This work of fiction, written by Wasim Jawaid is the author’s sole intellectual property. All rights are reserved. No part of this story may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including printing, photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author. For permission requests, send an email to the author wasim.jawaid@gmail.com
One fine morning a cycle decides to go for a ride around the city. It is the time of Lockdown, so of course it cannot take its master along. Here is a recount in pictures of the experience the cycle had that day 🙂
I lock the door of my home and step out. My saffron coloured dress goes well with the green and white of my home. It is as if the Tricolour is wishing me goodbye!
It is a bright sunny day. The smooth road stretches out in front of me like a black silk ribbon. I move at my own pace enjoying the ride. I am already looking forward to this experience!
As I cycle past stationary vehicles and moving trees a strange realisation hits me. There are absolutely no humans on the road! I marvel at the peace all around. Spying a vacant bench I park myself for a quick break.
Hello, what’s this lovely sight?! White and pink periwinkles flutter in the soft breeze in joyous abandonment. Might as well stop and pick some. Who knows if I meet someone special in the journey?
The sun is at its zenith now. All this pedalling has exerted me. How wonderful it would be if I could get those pair of wings?! I would fly against the azure sky.
As evening approaches, I suddenly see her. Under a blaze of lights she looks dainty in white. Maybe the rain Gods are happy too, as the heavens open up as we meet.
The light drizzle makes me scurry for cover under the same tree as her.
We stand next to each other in close proximity. There is complete silence in the city. Only our heart beats can be heard, thudding excitedly.
This work of fiction written, photographed and created by Wasim Jawaid is the author’s sole intellectual property. All rights are reserved. No part of this story may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including printing, photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author. For permission requests, send an email to the author wasim.jawaid@gmail.com
While pottering around my house in Bahrain, I clicked a few pics with the chair as an object of focus. However what started randomly, soon gave rise to a coherent sequence as I wondered what if an inanimate object would think too?
So presenting Kissa Kursi Ka, albeit of a different kind!
The curtains are drawn, the stage is set. Let the show begin, you will like it I bet!
2. Once in the Kingdom of Dilmunia, a riot of colours emerged from the petunia!
3. The orange marigiolds’ musky fragrant, the white clouds drift like a fluffy vagrant. The green trees blow my loneliness away, these 3 colours rejoice in my nation’s flag too, I say!
4. Finally, I get a table for company.
5. The setting sun slants in, shadows flicker in the breeze. I relax in the drawing room, sitting at ease!
6. The silent rain has soaked the setting day, the colour of love has since long been washed away.
7. Alone I sit and gaze into the night, life is simply neither black nor white.
Note:- a) Dilmunia is inspired by ancient civilization of Dilmun and has links to present day Bahrain b) I was based in this wonderful Gulf country for a few years until 2017.
This work of fiction written, photographed and created by Wasim Jawaid is the author’s sole intellectual property. All rights are reserved. No part of this story may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including printing, photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author. For permission requests, send an email to the author wasim.jawaid@gmail.com
That Odia Boy 