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.

Tipping Point

She stood at the edge of the cliff knowing exactly what lay ahead.  One more step and there would be no turning back. She had a life to end and memories to forget. The pain was deep rooted,the feelings numb and the reason to live, had no more logic to support.

It was at that moment ,her will to survive flew through her veins.It was at that moment she took control of her moving foot and stopped.It was at that moment she decided to return.It was that moment she decided to give it back.

After all, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

Gyanban Thoughts : A micro fiction highlighting drama as an underlying theme.

Ten Bucks

‘What’s your name again?' he said raising his right eyebrow. 

‘This is the first time you asked’ she said with lowering her eyes.

‘Rohini Dev Burman’she said after a brief pause. 

‘R D Burman eh?’he said puffing smoke rings.

‘Yes Rohini Dev Burman’.

‘Do you have the talent like him, can you sing like him?’ he said narrowing his eyes. 

‘I am a woman’

‘So you re like Asha?’ 

No sir, I am Rohini’ she said looking up. 

Attitude huh?’

'Confidence sir’ she said lowering her head again. 

‘You can wait outside’ he said gesturing towards the door.
 

‘Its been 6 months,she comes in every single day to meet me -she'd do anything to get a chance to sing - I bet ten bucks she will be better than Asha’ he said while stubbing his fifth cigarette.

‘Rajinder, don’t be silly, you’re just infatuated with her looks, not her voice’ said producer Ramnathan. 

‘Anna,ten bucks,the most precious ten bucks in the history of this music industry – why don’t you take the bet?’ Rajinder said. 

‘Raji, relax,how can you forget your history of losing bets?’ 

‘Ten bucks, and I will make this ordinary nobody, in to the next superstar of playback singing’ he said.
 

‘I am not taking any bets, its an open and shut case, she will sing a few songs here and there, and then she’ll be forgotten just like hundreds before. We will probably see her at some award functions or some jokers marriage ceremony standing in a corner desperately trying to get some attention with her failing body and ageless voice’ Ramanathan opined and stood up to leave.
 

‘Wait – ten bucks, the last time I dare you – don’t chicken out -my heart will weep’ Rajinder said. 

Rajinder knew exactly how to entice  Producer Ramanathan into a deal,this was not the first time.But this time he needed this to work more than ever.

‘Is she doing you ? Are you sleeping with her ? Is she pregnant or something?’ Ramanathan said. 

There was silence and the two exchanged glances for the first time. 

‘OK done – but we'll do it my way -ten bucks it is. Here  is my ten bucks right on the soft-board.It stays there only till one month – I will collect this back on 30th April and you will lose your house, your job, your life and of course the ten bucks – deal?’

‘It’s a deal’ Rajinder said.

Producer Ramanathan smirked ‘Let the games begin.’

‘Rohini come in’ Rajinder gestured standing at the door. 

‘You are going to be the next superstar of playback singing - I got you your deal - a chance to sing in Ramanathan's next movie' he said looking deeply into her eyes.

‘I know’ she said. 

‘What is it that you, want?’ Rajinder asked. 

‘I couldve said you heart, but its Money that I really want. Regular money and if you miss a payment, the photographs go to the press.’

The mood in the room had changed.

 ‘Ah so you are going to blackmail me?’he said.

‘Yes if I need to’ she said.

‘Let’s just say I don’t agree to your terms and conditions’ he said. 

‘Why are you bent on getting screwed, no pun intended Rajinder’ she said. 

‘Ah darling its not me, its you who is going to get screwed – I have those negatives with me.’Rajinder said with a hint of a crooked smile.

‘That’s impossible – you can never get to them – show it to me if you really have them?’she said.

‘You can go to the press with your negatives, that is if you can find them again’ he said winking.

‘You are lying you can never have those negatives, ever’ 

‘And why so my dear?’

‘Because they are…’
 

‘Yes…they are..What? Let me tell you my dear – those negatives were picked up from your now ransacked home, and right now they’re on their way here’Rajinder said looking at his watch. 

‘What?’ Rohini exclaimed wide eyed.

Rajinder smiled.

‘Now you will do exactly what I say – take off your clothes.’ 

Rohini stood still for a while and then obeyed instructions. Rajinder didn’t take too long to get into the act and soon he was panting for breath. He expected her to resist a bit, but she did not. Instead,it seemed like she was enjoying. The momentum increased, he rode her well, she moaned and asked for more. 

'Faster,faster,you bastard,do it to me,now faster...'Rohini screamed.

The heartbeats knew no bounds and at a point they choked.Rajinder died of a cardiac arrest in the middle of their torrid love making session.
 

Rohini sat up on the bed breathing heavy and said ‘Rama sir – you can come in now, the job is done – where’s my ten bucks?’

 

 

Gyanban Thoughts - a quirky love story after a long time.The double cross was the key point,and the setting deliberate.

 

Something Fishy

‘Check if the Catla is slimy Robin.’

‘Yuck –why do that?’

‘It tells whether the fish is fresh or not.’

‘Once you fry it – how does that matter?’

‘Stop arguing.’

‘Its logic.’

‘Its distasteful.’

‘Well its not cooked yet.’

‘Oh Gaawwd stop it.’

The Octopus and the Squid did not like the noise.They sprang on their face.

Robin and his father choked till they fell down.

The Catla smiled in relief.

Gyanban Thoughts - A fishy thriller,quirky and funny,or so I thought. Plight of fish.

miRage

There was a stretch of road that screamed of the vast emptiness on either side. A distant horizon was the only guiding light. Winters in the deserts of Rajasthan were particularly unforgiving. No civilization in sight, no habitation, just sand and plenty of time on their hands and some more elements that completed the perfect picture, aptly titled ‘Stranded’.

Just as the sun-set, Mohita and Mallika’s cross country journey sputtered and spattered to a screeching halt.Nothing to look forward and nothing to go back.

‘What do we do now?’Mohita the quieter one spoke out of nervousness.

‘Stop being such a sissy – when I am there, you don’t have to worry about anything’ – the bolder one retorted sharply.

Mallika got out of the car and stretched her arms as if nothing had happened, yawned and looked around with lazy elegance.Mohita followed suit , gingerly alighting the car inhaling the cooling breeze blowing across.

‘Looks like the breeze is picking up speed’ Mohita opined.

‘Now what?’

Mallika offered silence as an answer.

The sun seemed to be in a hurry to rise elsewhere, and the moon was conspicuous by his absence but the stars made their presence felt, in full glory.In the dying light of the day a distant ray of hope showed itself in the form of two headlights.

‘Ah – see there is civilization – we re not alone’ Mallika announced triumphantly.

‘B-but what if-’

‘Hush’ Mallika gestured wide-eyed.

A white Ambassador with dark tints stopped right beside them. As the window rolled down slowly, Mohita’s heart skipped a beat. There was an uneasy calm in the atmosphere that evening. Mohita looked at her watch  - it was precisely six hours since it had all begun.

A man looked out of the window, frowned his thick bushy  eyebrows and asked ‘What are you girls doing here?’

‘Can you help?’ Mallika asserted fearlessly, ignoring his question.

There was silence. 


Mohita’s heart was racing and her throat parched.

‘What help do you need?’

‘We need a ride to Bikaner’

‘Ah – that is not the direction I am headed to – I can give you a ride till the nearest railway station Deshnok Junction  - you are on your own from there’.

The girls looked at each other and then looked back at the man.

‘Open the boot – we have luggage.’ Mallika announced.

Mohita whispered – ‘ask him if he wants money?’


‘We will give him what we have – there’s not much else we can do, can we Mohita?’

Mohita nodded.

‘Give me the keys to the boot’ Mallika asked. The man switched off the car engine and gave her the key.

‘This is heavy I need help’ Mallika shouted from behind the car.She could not lift the suitcase alone.He watched her struggle,but did not get 
down, instead egged them to hurry up.

 ‘Mo – I need some help with the suitcase here’

‘Yes coming –just wait’ .Mohita opened the rear door and stuffed her belongings in the seat and helped Mallika dump the suitcase in the trunk of the car.

‘Such a jerk that man – didn’t even offer to help.’

‘Men – will always be men’ lets get going fast.

Mallika slammed the boot and went and sat beside the driver's  seat while Mohita slipped into the rear seat.

The night was rich black now, and the crystal twinkles in the sky were even more lucid as if they were trying to tell a story – just that they had no words to express. The old Ambassador started after a few hiccups. 


Mohita noticed the man looking at her through the rear-view mirror a number of times and all she could see is two blood shot eyes and a thick bushy eyebrow.

Mallika sat beside him with a clenched fist and one hand holding a metal sipper bottle. About  23 minutes into the ride, the man announced – ‘I think you should roll up the windows – there is a sandstorm up ahead.’

This made Mohita really nervous. The windows shades were pitch dark , with almost zero visibility outside. She thought what if this man was a monster, what if he was some sort of a serial killer – lock up strangers inside the car and rape and kill them? What if…

‘Mohita – didn’t you hear the man – just do as he says’Mallika asserted.

As the windows rolled up it was stuffy inside and a strange pungent odour emanated from the floor of the car . A stale smell, perhaps the first signs of rot setting in somewhere. Mohita was nauseous and immediately took out her deodorant and sprayed it around.

‘What’s that smell’ the man asked.

‘I don’t know  - keep driving’ – Mallika replied.

The man looked at her with a frown. He was not used to be treated like that before, not from women certainly. He chose to ignore and drove on. 


His head was starting to hurt,probably his blood pressure was high.The mood was tense inside the car as the sandstorm blew sideways swaying the car.

‘How far from the Deshnok railway station?’ Mallika asked.

‘About  20 minutes, but in this weather it might take a bit longer.’

No sooner had the man said this – Mallika’s hands began to shake vigorously as if she had a fit.

She took the metal sipper bottle and banged it on her forehead. Blood  splattered out immediately. She took aim and hit the same spot one more time – bang and it was a wide gash because this time the metal cap screws scraped the wound. She let out a loud scream. She wiped her bloodied hands on the dashboard, on the seat and then…. on the man’s shirt.

The man shivered at this madness.He was in a state of shock.His hands froze at the wheels and he jammed the brakes.The car came to a halt.In the frenzy of this madness he saw the rear view mirror.The girl in the back seat was tying herself with a rope around her neck.

‘Mallika – here pull the rope quick ’ she hissed. Gone was Mohita’s dainty whispering voice.

Mallika tugged hard at the rope  – it almost choked Mohita’s  throat. It drained the blood from her face and her eyes were bulging out.The man tried to escape – but the door was jammed. He could not open it.He banged in desperation and screamed for help but nothing went out of the car.

Mallika then took out the Swiss knife she hid in her pocket and slit her clothes and herself, ever so carefully so as not to rapture the central vein. 


She leaned over and did the same with the gasping Mohita. The man looked on motionless in horror.

‘Now  - take this knife and hold it still.’ Mallika spoke in a low trembling voice.

‘No-no, you c-cant do this – are you mad what are you doing  please leave me – take whatever you want –the man pleaded.’

Mallika looked at him with a wry smile and said – ‘you will do as I tell you – you will not use your brains lest I scrape it out.’

Mohita lunged from behind and scratched his face with her sharp nails taking out chunks of flesh on the way. The man was ravaged and brutally assaulted.

There was silence in the courtroom.

‘That man…. was me your honor–I shouldn’t be alive’ Baldevsingh Karni recounted the horror he went through in great detail.

‘I am a small town tourist operator from the Nokha village and was on my way to receive a tourist party for the Rajasthan villages tour when I met these ladies mid way you honor’.

The silence in the courtroom  was broken by the  clapping hands of the prosecutor.

‘That was a master work of art Baldev – you should try your hand in writing horror scripts for Ram Gopal Verma movies you know’ the lawyer said sarcastically.

‘It has all the ingredients of a super hit movie right there. But I am afraid you will have to wait till the next life time – your honor, this man is wasting the courts time in such fictitious misdirecting stories after such incredible amount of evidence against him.’

‘A dead body in the boot of the car – brutally chopped to pieces,face beyond recognition, and dumped in a suitcase , just by using a Swiss knife, which have his fingerprints and blood stains. As if this was not enough, he cooks up a story about two women assaulting him in the middle of no where. He also claims the women hurt themselves before inflicting pain on him – how odd is that?’

‘You have got to believe me sir – they did that deliberately to insure their protection in the event anyone else saw them ,the police chowk was just ahead of the Deshnok Railway station -as we were approaching town,– they could present themselves as victims.’ Baldev pleaded to be believed.

‘Why would some stranger suddenly want to hurt you – and that too a man of your size?

‘Where’s the motive? And more importantly where is the evidence?’

‘Your honor this is an open-shut case of a greedy tour operator who killed a man brutally in cold blood and wanted to pass on the blame ,but he got caught in his own story.’

‘That’s not true – why would I do that? What was my motive for killing somebody?’

‘Ah so now you do agree that there might be a chance that you were somewhere in the whole scheme of things and the woman story was all bogus- at least one point is proven here you honor.’

‘The motive was money – the police found a huge amount of cash in the back seat of the car – tightly rolled into bundles of thousand rupee notes -  talk about a healthy tip  eh Baldev?’

Baldev’s jaw dropped – he was helpless he had no defense left.

The court pronounced him guilty as charged and sentenced him to life imprisonment, ten years of which would be rigorous imprisonment with solitary confinement for six months.

A few days later,two women walked into a small restaurant near Bikaner railway station and ordered for some tea and snacks.The waiter brought two tiny cups of tea in a paper cup and snacks in a newspaper. As the last morsel of the snack went into their mouths an interesting article caught their eye.

“Shyam Singh Rathore, 40,divorced, looking for a suitable companion, homely, yet smart, traditional and modern can take care of home and assist in family business. Interested parties please post a picture and send bio data to Bikaner Times,PO Box number 2311 Bikaner - 334001.”

Just then,one of  the girl’s phone rang –a lawyer like voice on the other end of the line spoke - ‘my darlings,we have a new case…”

Gyanban Thoughts - a short twisted thriller  on  organized crime with a touch of madness!

Wind Beneath My Wings - VIII

Read from the begining.

Suddenly everything was clear and he recalled his past. As love possessed him, he wanted to become a better man, forsake all evil and become good once again. He was tired of being the agent of death. The bonus was immortality and eternal youth, but no love made it all worthless. He craved for some love, some life. He craved for one touch, one kiss, just one embrace, to feel her, to be with hereto love her like never before or ever since.

Those four years of watching Rosalyn were just magical for him, the best memories of his life, and he will cherish them forever – forever ,well, that’s something he cannot say anymore I guess.

As time passed, his restlessness grew and when he could bear it no more, he took a decision to forsake his immortality to go back to Earth and win her over, just to spend the rest of his mortal life with her.

Finally, the story of my life perhaps didn’t need a twist – but I can hardly complain as I have been behind numerous such twists and turn of other’s lives.

As I floated over Jatin Das Park, I finally saw Rosalyn walking up to me. She looked beautiful as ever, even  though there was blood spattered on her dress. I could tell she was hurt not just physically, but mentally. She looked at me with piercing eyes – for leaving her four years ago.

We looked at each other for a few seconds and then finally she spoke –

‘Gerald where have you been all this while – I have missed you so intensely?’

‘Darling I’ve found just the dream place for you and me in heaven’.

‘What did you do all these years?’

‘Well, to begin with, I was assisting Apollyon with his job and repaying for the sins I committed on earth before finding a small place in heaven.

You know that’s when I learned the sinister events on February the 14^th four years ago. Apollyon,the angel of death fell in love with you and orchestrated the accident, and instead of you he took me with him. I was fortunate the Lord Almighty, his father, our father, was watching over all that happened. Rest as they say is history.’

‘But who was Mr.White?’

‘Well that was just a loving father trying to help his son.’

As for Apollyon, well, like he has done this many times before, the same will happen to him, he will not remember any of this in a few minutes, and he will resume his mortal life on earth till realization strikes him after his death.

Just like it did to you and me.

Gyanban Thoughts - Final and concluding part of the mini series. I enjoyed writing this and originally had a different ending,  I started the story hoping to write a love story without any twists or turns.Then I turned  to write a sombre love story, a father son saga,finally after re reading hundred times chose a paranormal  angle to it. Therefore if you read the series in one go, you will find these elements in the narration. A good story needs a good scene description,so you find a detailed account of Rosalyn's life.A good needs attention to detail,so i spent sometime developing Gabriel and Roaslyn's personalities.A good story needs research  so when I was trying to design a super natural thriller an element of research was required to add to the authenticity of the narration - all of these  were critical..Rosalyn, Gerald, Apollyon all mythical characters dating back to pre and post christianity evolution.

The resultant mix of all these elements, gave birth to Wind Beneath my Wings. I enjoyed writing this, hope you had an equally good time reading this.

Till next time....ciao.


Read from the begining.