Case, History.

"Yes, that's how it all ended Mi lord" said Vera Wallace looking at the judge's hammer.

"Madam Wallace,you do realize what you're saying is quite bizarre?"the judged asked craning his neck.

"Yes Mi lord,it is what it is"she said.

"Well,in light of this new revelation,Madam Vera Wallace is guilty as charged.Sentenced to One year in prison and fifty thousand pounds as fine.

Vera Wallace was convicted,by self admission,for money laundering at Henry Brooks Trust.

One Year later,Madam Vera Wallace received a newspaper article in her prison mailbox.It read " Case closed : Killer not found". 

Vera let out a quiet smile as she scribbled "the wait is over".

Gyanban Thoughts : A classic heist /misdirection story. This needed a twist in the end to really kick into a larger, longer story but time is a luxury that few can afford.Note the little comma in the title,that's by design.

Cleaverly Done!

Switching off the television in the kitchen Chef Gomez said ‘I just knew it, he is the killer.’

‘It’s a bizarre case isn’t it – I mean what kind of sick man chops body parts and keeps them in freezer?’asked his apprentice Sandy.

‘Exactly, this is a cruel,cruel world – I just knew it from the moment they aired this on television – he was,he was the man’.

‘Yea right, and how were you so sure?’ Sandy asked.

‘Well, he shows the classic symptoms’ Chef Gomez said pulling out the cleaver from the knife box to chop the meat.

‘O yeah? Like what?’ Sandy asked.

‘Ah the usual, troubled childhood, alcoholic parents, abuse, innocent looking etc. .’ Chef Gomez rattled off while slamming the cleaver on the cutting board splitting the rib eye into two.

‘Disagree, Sanchez was saving up to send his parents for a holiday, and he had a rather normal childhood’.

‘That’s an assumption Sandy – he even forgot his pug’s birthday, wouldn’t give him a bath for weeks and not even take him out for a walk in the evening’ Chef Gomez said wiping off the faint reminiscent blood, off the meat with his white gloves.

‘Oh Come on, it was minus temperature for most part of the season' said Sandy looking at the cutting board.

‘No, no you don’t understand these serial killers,you're too naive,they just appear to be normal, but they don’t do normal things, they do bad things, oh terrible things they do and then just forget about it’ emphasized Chef Gomez and shaped the cut perfectly.

‘I think you are reading too much into it, the trial is still on, and the prosecution still does not have motive proven’ argued Sandy.

‘They like to kill, have no feelings, cold, cold blood and no no feelings, they trap or seduce the victim, and then corner them before unleashing hell’ Chef Gomez slammed the cleaver one more time. This time the spoons fell off the hook.

Just then, the wall clock chimed at the top of the hour.

‘Guess the jury is out on this one – and I should head home.’

‘Sandy wait, why don’t you show me what you learnt today, like how to cut the rib eye perfectly?’

‘Err Chef its six o clock, can we do this tomorrow? ‘Sandy said looking at the clock.

‘You can check in anytime you like but you can never leave, welcome to hotel California' Chef Gomez sang loudly waving the cleaver like an orchestra conductor & started dancing to the tune while chopping the meat pieces with razor sharp precision and speed.

Sandy broke into a nervous smile. 

Sandy took a step back without turning his head, and suddenly Chef Gomez stopped singing, the cleaver had stuck into the cutting board, he slowly turned his face towards Sandy and said ‘what’s the hassle kiddo, chopping meat is fun, come here and listen to the music of the chop, the sound of steel ripping through air, slicing through flesh and hitting wood, poetry I say’.

Sandy wiped his sweaty palms on the cape. ‘You mean we cut the meat now?’

‘That’s right, now stand close to me, give me your hand and I will teach you poetry’.

‘Come closer, here hold my hand’ said Chef Gomez pulling him closer. Sandy turned his head to notice the exit door was latched. Chef Gomez grabbed his hand and pulled him closer.

‘That’s good, now first lose the fear of failure –feel the power of the cleaver, watch the meat carefully, notice the soft pink parts from the dark red ones, know exactly where to strike and then let yourself go,let me show you one more time’.

Sandy noticed the blood splattered cape Chef Gomez hung from his neck and blood stains looked fresh. He glanced down the pocket to see four chopped fingers inside.

Gyanban Thoughts : Just another crazy story idea which originated on the weekend spent on the kitchen table! I wanted this to be a longer story but held myself back to give a slight edginess to it.

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

Monalisa Smile

Walking by the art gallery Rebecca was lost in thoughts of her daily life.

'What a wasted life - the artist in me has died' she brooded.

'My life is all about duty' she said looking at the famed replica.

'And look at you – smiling for centuries’.

Rebecca’s mobile was buzzing, it was from an unidentified number.

She disconnected it a couple of times,but the caller persisted,finally she took the call.

‘Who’s this?’

A feeble woman’s voiced spoke -‘Smiles carried me through the miles of time’

Trembling, Rebecca looked up at the painting again – Monalisa was smiling.




Gyanban Thoughts : and the mystery continues....


image courtesy : here

Flamingo City

The Virar local left at 8:02 AM as usual. The ride was usual but today, the end was going to be fascinating.

Twenty five-year-old Kalpana Patel had made it to her dream job in the Indian Forest Services. Her long cherished dream of being an IFS officer was about to come true. Kalpana was on her way to Churchgate station to collect the certificates from the UPSC center.

‘Congratulations beta I am proud of you’ texted Jatinbhai Patel her businessman father.

Jamnaben Patel, called immediately after –‘Baka now you need to think about getting married, bahu thayi giyo. At your age I was already carrying your sister – do you realise how time is running out?’

Kalpana didn’t respond, her life was not going to be relegated to a Virar-Churchgate fast local, cutting vegetables and assisting her father’s business in South Mumbai. Yet here she was in a Mumbai local train unsure how her future would unfold.

 As the train moved in slow rhythmic oscillations, Kalpana put on the headphones and drifted away in to the past. She recalled all those nights of research, burning the midnight “coffee”, and writing pages after pages of research and preparing hard for the examinations ahead.

Ever since her first visit to the local zoo, she was not only fascinated by the animals but also with the surrounding environment, the rocks, the forest,the trees, the birds –in short the entire habitat.Her dream assignment was to explore the Desert Wildlife Sanctuary in Gujarat. Kutch district in Gujarat had a true saline desert where thousands of flamingos flocked together every year. The Flamingos looked strikingly beautiful.

The rich blue colors of the sky and the crystal white saline field added a perfect contrast for the colors to get even more highlighted. By the time winter set in October or early November, the royal blue skies, a pristine white saline field and orange and red Flamingos made for a heady cocktail of colors. It was a sight for sore eyes.

She remembered there was a particular photograph, which showed seven Flamingos in a circle formation. Each had a streak of crimson and scarlet red, a long sensual neck and eyes seemed to suggest, they knew, that they were the most beautiful in the world. Kalpana was fixated with this particular angle where it seemed one of the Flamingos was actually looking at her and trying to say something.

As days passed she had become increasingly restless and tried to decipher what could be the hidden message in the photograph? She had a flurry of questions flooding her mind -where was this taken, who took it, why this formation, so and so forth. She was desperate for an answer.

It was only after a chance surfing on the net, that she found the name Dholavira. Buried near the flamingo flocks lay an ancient old city, long forgotten yet a key piece of the Harrapan civilization. Dholavira contained the ruins of the Harrapan civilization. The city dated back to 2650 BCE.

She knew there had to be some connection with the Flamingos and Dholavira but could not get the missing link. As she intensified her research of the lost city increasingly she found an uncanny connection to her present.

The city had three sections, like a pre designed blue print which comprised of a Citadel, middle town and a lower town. It had roughly about sixteen reservoirs and most habitat was based around that. It seemed all the houses were constructed around a citadel. The Harrapans spoke an ancient language which had not yet been deciphered, other than some bits and pieces of artifacts which had some pictures inscribed.

Kalpana’s relentless research led her to one such sign board from that era. It had four large images on a  big gypsum board. These glyphs had a secret message which no one had figured out until now. She went over the photograph again and again – the symbols were of a wheel, a rectangle shape, a spiral shaped object, and a hollow circle. This image had become a permanent fixture in her head, a puzzle, a riddle she had to solve.

As she visualized the image in her head over and over again, it suddenly became clear. For a second Kalpana was in denial – but it was making sense, so much sense that her heart started palpitating,she clenched her fingers as realization dawned upon her.

The wheel signified change, or movement, the rectangle shape suggested a box or a container, the spiral shaped object meant there was a path leading somewhere deep, and the hollow circle meant trapped inside.

‘Why would the Dholavira people have this message inscribed?What was the purpose? Were they trying to say something about us or to us?’ she wondered.

The sudden jerk of the train snapped her out of stupor and as she opened her eyes she saw that she was the only one in the compartment.

‘That’s odd a Monday morning, and no crowd in the train’ she spoke out loud.

As Kalpana became more conscious, she realized her clothes were soaking wet, she was sweating profusely, and breathing heavily. The world was spinning around her, the train was slowing down but the stations zoomed past her, a cold breeze blew across the solitary compartment and from a seemingly hot environment, she was suddenly feeling cold.

The train entered its final destination –Churchgate Station and stopped. There wasn’t a single soul, as if they never existed, silence reigned supreme.

Kalpana was perplexed and in a state of panic. This was so inexplicable. So bizarre. She just couldn’t comprehend. Her nervous energy made her step out of the train compartment and on to the platform. She began running, then running harder, faster , faster, till she was practically breathless, sightless she ran till the exit of the platform and collapsed just outside the station.

As she looked up to the heavens for an answer, she spotted the citadel – it was the Churchgate station,and there was the middle town and the lower town from where she came.This was turning out to be a hidden blueprint of the Dholavira site.

Kalpana was trying to make sense of it all, but her brain was too shocked to let sanity prevail. As a last attempt at making sense of it all, she located her mobile phone and hastily dialed her father.

‘Hello Papa – something is wrong with Churchgate station, there is no one around – would you believe that – in fact I -  I am the only one – what’s happening Papa, what’s the matter – why don’t you speak. Papa’ she screamed into the receiver.

‘…Mumbai City has disappeared' she ended with a whisper.

Seven flamingos perched in a circle watched from a distance remembering how their city had disappeared once….

Gyanban Thoughts -this story has multiple layers, mixing history with the present.There is an element of mysticism,suspense,twist and surreal action incorporated into the narration.The challenge here was having just one character to play,and build the tension.A reference from the past was the connection,and the unreality of Mumbai city disappearing  fascinated me. Imagine the shock if you were to witness the absence of the epitome of hustle and bustle.?The title Flamingo City therefore seemed very apt because they serve as the connect with the past - and also act as an omen to the future.

Dholavira is a real site discovered only in the late 60's by Mr.J.P.Doshi and is the fifth largest Harrapan site in the Indian subcontinent.It is located in the Rann of Kutch and is visited by flocks of Flamingos every year whose origin is unknown.

The source of information :Archeology.

image courtesy : Here.

Timeliner

Land Ahoy!’ young Wayne Roswald exclaimed.

‘How is that possible?’ Aileen McCarthy retorted.

‘Yes I see it too but it looks so different?’

‘What re those tall structures?’

‘I don’t know I don’t have a precedence to refer.’

‘Should we stop?’

‘I don’t think so?’

‘Where are the others?’

‘I don’t know – they must be coming behind’

‘What a night it was, isn't it?’

‘Yea, I didn’t notice the iceberg at all.’

‘Oh so you saw it?’

‘Yes maam right in front of my eyes.She ran into it like a charging bull.’

‘And then?’

‘Well, after that I…I’

‘Well go on – why did you stop?’

‘Uh um I don’t seem to remember.’

‘What do you mean you don’t remember – we hit the iceberg didn’t we?

‘You were there too –‘

‘Yes I was, but on the lower deck – so didn’t see it coming – just heard a loud noise and that was it.’ Aileen said lowering her eyes.

‘What happened after that?’ Wayne pushed.

‘We ran out of the lower deck and then…’

‘And then what?’

‘That’s odd- I too don’t remember what happened next?

Just then…

‘Look there is a strange looking boat coming right ahead.They seem to be saying something…’ Wayne said.

‘Captain – I see a man and a woman on a boat – they refuse to identify themselves’, seaman Ron Mitchell shouted.

‘Are you kidding me? Must be a rocking honeymoon on a boat in the middle of Atlantic!’ Captain Cork giggled.

‘This is the US coast guard patrol service, identify yourself’ the loudspeaker blurted.

‘Wayne Roswald and Aileen McCarthy on board sir.’

‘Which port are you coming from?’

‘Southhampton sir’.

‘You traveled two hundred and fifty nautical miles on that boat?

‘No just the last few miles – our ship hit the iceberg sir’.

‘Well the last time something hit an iceberg was a hundred years ago’.

Wayne and Aileen shivered, as they saw the date on a wet torn newspaper lying on the floor of their boat –April 10,1912.













Gyanban Thoughts - this fiction is dedicated to the centenary of the Titanic voyage.April12,2012 is when the unsinkable sank.So many lives,so many stories, so many hopes and so many prayers drowned that cold night.I guess God was busy saving someone else that night.This story is laced with optimism albeit in another timeline. Somewhere the Manhattan experiment crossed my mind while creating this fictoreal story.The story travels back and forth in different time lines.Who knows someday we just might see the the Titanic that made it to New York.


This also happens to be my 200th post.

Fliegen

A famous couple had died that afternoon.

Two bullet shots were heard outside the compound.

As instructed, the seargents took the bodies upstairs and set them alight.

The world rejoiced at the fall of the Fuhrer.

Miles away from the Fuhrerbunker – Adolf Hitler & Eva boarded a millitary jet to  fly away into mystery forever.

Gyanban thoughts – Fliegen is a German word for Fly.This 55 fiction gave me something to think about when I was researching the story.Adolf Hitler’s death is known to be by a single gun shot to his right temple.Later his body was burnt along with his wife Eva Braun. The information about his death was inconsistenly released, some of which is still kept a secret.

Different versions of Hitler's fate were presented by the Soviet Union according to its political desires. In the years immediately following 1945, it maintained Hitler was not dead but had fled and was being shielded by former western allies.This worked for a time to cause western authorities some doubt. The chief of the U.S. trial counsel at Nuremberg, Thomas J. Dodd, said: "No one can say he is dead."

When President Truman asked Joseph Stalin at the Potsdam conference in August 1945 whether or not Hitler was dead, Stalin replied bluntly, 'No'. However, by 11 May 1945, the Soviets had already had Hitler's dentist Hugo Blaschke and his dential technician confirm the dental remains found were Hitler's and Eva Braun's.

But the question remains, why was information on Hitler’s death not an open text book in the first place? What could possibly be hidden? I leave it to your imagination…


information courtesy :wikipedia.

Blip

‘I am feeling cold – hold me tight’

‘It’s ok darling, I am there with you’

‘But why are we leaving them behind?’

‘They will follow, but we have to go now’

‘Wait , I can see something familiar..’

‘Isn’t that you and me lying on the ground?’

The Flight Data Recoder ended after that. Blip.

Gyanban Thoughts - This micro fiction was inspired by air crash investigation episodes on Nat Geo. There are two types FDR - flight data recorder and the CVR -cockpit voice recorder. This story is based on the visualization that what if there was a passenger voice recorder as well ? Sometimes when death is near,people have reportedly foreseen it before the actual experience...imagine listening to that conversation. The title blip was so fitting as it leaves for many interpretations, one of them being a spike - perhaps in reality!