Hansi

3 PM, very unusual time on a Sunday afternoon. I should be on my bed, binging both on food and Chimp Empire. But sadly, here I am in this gaudy house of a government servant. Hansini, what sort of a man has this name. 

I have no idea what his surname is but I'm guessing he's a South Indian. He can't stop judging me. Too bad he has to trust me. I wonder what he does apart from scratching his balls and eating like a pig. 

This pc is probably from the stone age, it's keys have barely been touched since the 19th century, my fingers ache from the 5 times that I've tried typing. Anyway, the problem at hand here is that Hansini, the shady motherfucker from this stone age PC tried to enter the dark web and downloaded child porn which was not the only thing that got downloaded, with it he invited a million notorious viruses. 

The idiot thought that he has deleted the porn but even a 5th grader knows that the file has to be deleted from the recycle bin. My job here is to figure out a way to kill the viruses. I've been told by Hansi that the PC contains very important, discreet information and that I have to save anyhow without any compromise. So I check for solutions on Google, lol. 

Just kidding, I know my shit. I've been doing it since I was 7, a geek kid who found validation by defeating viruses. At 25, I have more experience than this fat pig's salary number. I start with the basics first, running the virus checks show that the virus is way more notorious than I had anticipated and worse, it is on the C drive, which is apparently filled with confidential information.

Hansi has gone to the loo, I quickly check the drive and it blows my mind. The drive is filled with aadhar card data of at least 10 lac people. It is beyond me that this chutiya has been trusted with this information and in this pc. Fuck it's started to heat so much. I am not even started yet and the system has started to give up on me, pretty much like my father. Uhh, I need to concentrate. I insert my hard disc and begin to work. I have to figure out a way to back up the data before cleaning the drive. 

I am working very intently as Hansi comes to me, places his chair right beside, smokes a cigarette and asks me, "Why is it taking so long?" I wish I could tell him, "Khud kar le" but I just tell him without looking, "At it sir. Finishing asap." I need to tell this guy that the system is fucked and that it's the mother dies or the child dies situation. So we save the computer or the data of 1 million people. "Sir, is your pc important?" "Why you ask? He's tensed." "Arre sir, the viruses have attacked the c drive. Very difficult to save the pc. So we'll have to transfer the data to other drive to save the data but that would fuck the pc, I mean kill your pc." He was clearly not impressed hearing this. He started panicking. "No no. If the pc stops working, it will go for inspection by the higher authority and it will compromise all my personal data. Can't be doing that. Find another way." I now understand the panic. The pc is filled with the kind of porn that could land him in jail. 

But he's not understanding that if the data is fucked, he'll not be jailed but hanged until he stops squirming like a pig that he is. "Sir, I get it. But the data is very sensitive and I don't think there is a way that we can save both." "Aye, I'll call the other guy." Fucker doesn't know that the best in the country is in the room. I let him do what he wants to. He dials a guy who helps hack into ex girlfriend's Instagram for cheap money. The guy knows me. "Oh okay." I know what he has said. He comes back and tries to talk to me like a human. "Bro please, you have to find a way." I shake my head, "Sir you have to understand, I have tried everything and told you what can be the solution." He starts panicking and fidgets like he's in an animal cage and then does the obvious. 

Makes a neat whiskey glass for himself, gulps it down like water. And again and again and again. He then comes, dizzying comes and sits back in the chair. "Fuck the janta, they are all anyway North Indians, bhenchod. They don't consider us Indians. Save my pc. I'll tell them the pc was stolen, burn it after backing up the data. I want it. Can't download it again bhenchod." It takes me a few moments to realize what this mofo is saying. I look at him blankly. "Kar le chutiye. 10 lac dunga. Tere 1 saal ki salary bhi nahi hai itni." It is lucrative but I have to do a risk analysis before saying yes. 

What if I'm caught in the end? But the amount he's offering is insane. It'd sort the business setup that I wish to do so that I don't have to work with these government crooks anymore. "Bol jaldi" the pig has no patience. "Okay sir. I'll do it." The fat pig drags himself to the work desk, takes the cheque out from the drawer and starts writing. He signs it and comes towards me, as he does, the fat pig loses his balance and falls head first on the floor. He's a goner. The floor legit shook for 4 seconds. It again took me a few moments to realize that the cheque is right there.

I can rush in 15 mins to the bank and get the cash in my account, while fucking his pc and his life forever. The reason can be as simple as that I couldn't save the virus, back up the data while encashing the amount. Hansi will not be able to say a word why he gave me the money as it'd invite further investigation. All was set. I quickly finished the work. Backed up the data, went to the bank and deposited the cheque, went back home and began the binging. The chimps looked a little evolved today. I wonder why. 2 hrs later, Hansi sent me laughing while crying emoji and a few moments later, a msg from the bank that the cheque has bounced and 3,000 have been debited from my account. Fuck Hansi.

Gauri

She had achingly beautiful eyes. Like eyes of a new born. Unaged. If that’s a word. Eyes which feel like they’ve seen only the good side of the world or has not seen anything at all. With or without the kajal, it worked and how.

“Oh hello”, she snaps her finger in front of my eyes. I wake up. “Where do you keep zoning out?” she asks. Now how do I ever explain to her where I was without thinking about 1000 other ways and ruining it forever what I actually want to tell her. “Nothing, nothing.” She gives me a ‘what even’ look before continuing with her story. The number of stories she has. I wonder if she has taken re birth as the Nani maa and is reverse ageing. 

But it works for me, I let her speak. It calms me down. The whole process of her talking and me listening or not, lol. But me listening overall helps me to have lesser thoughts running than they would ideally. The music has also stopped helping now. 

Neurologically it is said, that singing is the only activity that can help you stop thinking. Good singing or bad, it doesn’t matter. Science has failed in my case, I can’t stop thinking. The only thing that can maybe minimise my thinking is her voice and her stories. I’ve given in.

Okay, time for name reveal. Get ready. Im sure all of you have at least one name in your head, fitting the description. That is the beauty of literature, you find yourself and others in someone else’s story. 

The name is Gauri. Ya - pure, white, influential, Goddess like. She’s all of it. Apart from the gorgeous eyes and the talking skills, she’s smart and artistic. Has clothing aesthetic of a broken hearted artist who pledges to make every set of eyes to fall for her, as a revenge for one set of eyes who she couldn’t please. Cruel. 

Yes she’s like that but on the face of it, she’s the cutest piece of shit you’ve seen. You’d want to squish her, bomb a million kisses on her forehead. Rare, isn’t it? When you want to kiss the forehead more than the lips. Ya, she’s rare. There’s this particular way in which she moves her hands while she talks. Like she’s an abacus student doing mental calculations while speaking and thought filtering. Unbelievable with that much talking, she still has thoughts which have been filtered and not been said. 

Gauri is not at all a smooth talker though, she repeats more than she says. She loses thought mid sentence and retries. Like she’s just learnt sentence formation in 3rd standard. But there are times when she’s silent, silent that can remind you of death, silent. And she’ll never look at you when she’s silent. She’ll look at the unpainted wall, that ugly drawing, the infinite mess in your room and the ground like there’s a goldmine there. But she’ll never look at you when she’s silent. I know, for sure, it is when she’s silent, she thinks the most. Like a thousand galaxies running concurrently around her brain and she trying to give sun rays, energy and moonlight to all of these planets concurrently. You stop one planet and it’ll be the big bang. New order. So you let her be, in silence. 

Gauri has been loved so much by her parents. Always. Na, she’s not the broken kid you get attracted to. Broken is easy to get attracted to. Isn’t it? But it is as easy or shall I say easier with Gauri. She’s the striking opposite, so so loved by her parents that you want to enter the race and top the race of loving her. But you fail every time. “Mom dad did this today. They said this. They brought this.” And you end up thinking, ah shit. We never matching that. You lose everyday and that is what keeps you going. Waiting for that few moments of sweet victory to come. It’s like RCB fans waiting to win the IPL once for god’s sake! So you keep going. A smile here, a laughter there from that beautiful face and you’re done. She makes bare minimum feel like a mountain climbing feat. You might be tired by the end of it but you’re always aiming for the new high peak to climb. 

Gauri is that shortcoming which you always want to overcome. The habit which you always want to inculcate. The dream which you write and manifest every fucking day and wish that it’ll get realized one day. 

She snaps again and hits my arm hard this time. “Bro, one hit and you’ll fall on your face. You know that right?” I smile. The cuteass minion. Wish I could tell her, “I have fallen already.” But I let it pass. 

Back to the achingly beautiful, childlike eyes. The voice that will calm me down. Back to her talking and my silence. I have to give sun rays, energy and moonlight to all these planets concurrently. It was almost the big bang, new order when she stopped me. But we’re back to work now. 

Revathi

Revathi is there lying on the hospital bed, breathing ever so slowly under the oxygen mask. Fareed looks at her from the door outside, breathing ever so fast, trying to contemplate how his life had changed in the last few hours. “The next 24 hours are very critical”, the doctors said. Fareed had heard this line before in films but the “very critical” sent him to a panic mode. He could not get his mind off the fact that just 3 hours back, he had seen her smiling bright. Fareed remembered the time when he had shifted the ring from his left index finger to right so that it doesn’t hurt Revathi when she holds her hand. And here she is, lying there helpless, in grieving pain and all he can think of doing is switch places this time, he would’ve if he could. But the pain was destined, for both of them.

Revathi and Fareed’s relation dates back to the time when they were young and foolish. Young enough to believe in love at first sight and foolish enough to think that it lasts forever. But they held on, unlike majority of couples who cut off after having sex on the first date. Held on to see what the future had in store for them, to give this a chance till the moment it stopped mattering that one loved Arijit Singh and the other Prateek Kuhad. The chances soon turned into opportunities, opportunities to fall in love deeper and deeper. There were gaps, of course, like there are in every relationship but these were filled like the spaces between the fingers. So they gripped tight and forged a battle of love, commitment, fear and everything in between.

Revathi, a lover of physiology, a medical student knew that she would finish her MBBS in two years, become a doctor and marry a man of her father’s choice. But she held onto that one thread of hope; that Fareed would mend his ways and realize that the time is running out, not for her or him but for them. “It helps me keep my tormenting past behind”, he said with a drop of tear ready to make its way out from his eyes while intoxicating himself with drugs. Fareed had an emotionally exhausting childhood, with his parents not just separating but also finding new partners. He refused to believe that he can be loved by anyone until Revathi came like a breath of fresh air. But it turned toxic every time drugs mixed in his blood. “You have to live in the present Fareed. I’m here with you always to remind you that the bad days are gone forever.” He listened but didn’t have enough strength to understand. Understand the faith in Revathi’s words. And so it started fading, much faster than his will power.

Before he knew it, she had gone. The last thread of hope had detached for Revathi. Her mind was there with Fareed but her soul had touched a void. She stopped feeling anything, the space where you are intoxicated to the point of numbness.

27^th March, 2018, Fareed tried to recount everything that happened that night for the 10^th time, hoping that this venting out process will help him forget. Fareed like a good boyfriend had planned a romantic dinner for them. He booked the tables, wrote a letter, bought flowers, wore her favorite black shirt and had even asked the restaurant to only play Prateek Kuhad songs while they had dinner. It was set. An evening to give love another chance, to give Revathi and Fareed another chance. He texted her, “Ill pick you up at 8 sharp. Be ready! :*” Fareed was jumping with joy and left his house at 7.30, hoping to reach 15 minutes earlier and wait for Revathi to come and make him skip a beat for the nth time. He sat in his two-wheeler impatiently, looking at his watch, fidgeting while waiting on the opposite side of the road. Finally Fareed saw a glimpse, a glimpse of a dream, Revathi in sparking white, pretty earrings made her way down the stairs smiling at Fareed. Revathi’s defiant hope had also got corrupted as soon as she saw Fareed in the black shirt. She smiling honestly, was about to cross the road, when a car came zooming from across the street hitting Revathi and making her fall 30 feet away. Fareed had lost his senses, he stood there staring into nothingness as the car driver came out, saw Revathi’s body lying unconscious panicked for a bit with tipsy feet and zoomed off 30 seconds later. Revathi’s parents came rushing down, soon the ambulance came and Fareed followed it madly like it was the last train home.

Revathi is there lying on the hospital bed, breathing ever so slowly under the oxygen mask. Fareed takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, folds his hands and prays, “Whoever, wherever you are. Save her. Save her, I will be a sober man, like she wants, please don’t let her die. Please.” And at that very moment, the ventilator makes the sound, the sound which indicates defeat. Fareed’s dream had just died, right in front of his eyes while he had no control over it. His hands moved from prayer to remorse, from folded hands to covering his face in one damn moment. The tears this time did not need intoxication; it flowed like a flood refusing to calm down. “You have to live in the present Fareed. I’m here with you always to remind you that the bad days are gone forever.” Revathi’s words reverberated as Fareed cried like there’s no tomorrow. There isn’t, before he is woken up with a kiss on his cheek and a loving “good morning babe”. The hangover has begun.

Thrash!

I sat there, looking at him punishing my fingers, twisting it, turning it ruthlessly in fear. I did not know what he was going to do next as he went away into the kitchen and started pouring milk into the glass. It relieved me; I thought that he had finally calmed down. But he came right back, walking like an unearthing storm towards me. He held my chin, made me look into his eyes and force fed me the entire glass of milk. I almost began to puke before he reached out to my collar and threw me back to the ground. It was going to begin again. The belt had lost its form, bought just yesterday, torn today. I settled down, shut my eyes and began to picture the pretty face of Amma. I could never stop picturing her, moving her hands on my head, untangling my long, unruly hair while humming a hauntingly calming tune. Thrash! Came the belt right on my back, my body had become resilient to the pain, it didn’t hurt much anymore. Thrash! I hid my face with my palms, trying to embrace all of it, like every day ritual. Thrash! This one hurt bad and I screamed out loud. Thrash! And the tears rolled out. Amazing how tears come out right when it gets the sound alert of scream. The stream of tears poured out and I went into the stage of numb. Thrash, thrash and thrash! It went on and on until I passed out in pain. I stopped reacting, my body stopped reacting but he didn’t stop. Thrash! Thrash! Thrash! He went on till the point he was filled with the feeling of satisfaction. Panting vigorously, he sat on the sofa with a slight smile on his face, the smile meant redemption which he felt every time he finished this activity. I in my subconscious state of mind still had the pretty face of Amma. Thrash! It rattled me but this time the belt was not on me. Thrash! He started screaming in pain, the pain was fresh, his scream even fresher. Thrash! He lost balance and fell on the floor. Thrash! Thrash! Thrash! And I saw Amma right in front of my eyes, taking his skin apart. With my eyes filled with tears and numbness, I saw him stop reacting, his body had stopped reacting but Amma didn’t stop. Thrash! Thrash! Thrash! Thrash! She went on till the point she was filled with the feeling of satisfaction. Panting vigorously, she came and sat just beside me, took my head, put it on her lap and started moving her hand on my head, untangling my long, unruly hair while humming the hauntingly calming tune. Thrash! He was back again. 

The Phone Call

It was Valentine’s Day; I was expecting her call as every year. I was working on my new assignment when suddenly the phone rang. A wide smile ran down my face as I noticed that it was her. I was busy, had to complete my work but I couldn’t afford to miss this call, not for anything in this world. “Hello!” she said. Her voice was the sweetest thing in this world; I could listen to it all my life. “Ya, hi.” Even though my heart was jumping with joy but as soon as I opened my mouth to speak, no words came out. I spoke the lamest two words possible. “How are you”, she asked. I wish I could tell her that I missed her, I wished to meet her, “I’m good, have been really busy with the new assignments. The company has been putting a lot of responsibilities on my shoulder off lately but coping with it somehow.” I had to talk about work, to divert myself. I didn’t want to sound depressed. “That’s good. With great responsibility comes great power and money too!” I smiled; her sense of humor always amused me. “How’s it going at your end?” I asked. “Good too, not fortunate enough to be as busy as you, but scraping through. Have to strive a lot to reach your level.” I blushed. She always said that, somewhere down the line she thought of me as an inspiration. That was weird for me to understand but I let that pass every time. There was an awkward silence. Probably we both were trying to figure out what we should say next. I heard her gasp. “What happened?” I asked. “Nothing.” She said, taking a deep breath she continued, “How’s she doing?” “She’s good. Oh a moment of nostalgia! You remember how we celebrated Valentine’s three years back?” quickly changing the topic. “Yes, I remember. I miss you.” As well as she knew me. She realized that I was changing the topic and said the three words.  No matter which tone spoken in makes one emotional. In this case, brought tears. “ I miss you too.” I had to admit that I missed her day in, day out. I thought about her all the time and prayed for her well being despite being an atheist. “What do you really like in her?” she had to ask this. I was very much in love with Naina and had to move out. I really didn’t have an elaborate answer. “I love her beta.” I just realized that I had made the biggest mistake. “You...” she gasped again. “You are not supposed to call me beta.” Trying to stop her tears, “You lost the rights the day you left mom and went away. The sad part is that I still love you. I shouldn’t, but I do. You are my father after all.” I was crying. I had lost all control over my tear glands and was crying like a baby when I heard the sound of the phone hanging up. It is unimaginable how powerful a phone call can be, in this case, devastatingly powerful.

The Unusual

I was bound. My hands and feet were tied with an itchy rope. It left rashes but I could only see them and feel the pain. I wanted to shout and in fact I was shouting but all in vain. My mouth was very meticulously covered with a dirty piece of cloth which stunk. I tried my best every now and then to break my voice but couldn’t. There was a sharp, blaring light right in front of my eyes which didn’t allow me to see anything in front. I felt almost blind. I couldn’t remember the last time I had seen darkness. At one point I wished that I die but then the curiosity didn’t let me die. Why was I here? Why was I put in such state? I was there for 7 days and I could not figure out why I was being punished.
The man was unusual. I should be using scary and villainous terms but he was nothing more than unusual. He had a crew cut and was clean shaved. He looked more like an underdog school boy. I always saw him in shorts, 7 days straight, he had never worn anything apart from shorts and a torn t shirt.  From all I could notice with my weak eyes, it was that he had no hair on his arms or legs which meant that he was accustomed to pain. He wore a watch in his hand, always. Every time he came towards me to try and feed me I could notice that he had minor scars on his knees and his forehead. The pain in his eyes killed me every day. It felt like he wanted to end it, once and for all. It felt like he wanted to end it with me. And that scared me.
On the eighth day, I was woken up with the lights going off. I do not know when my tired eyes had fallen asleep. It was him, he was back. He had not spoken a word ever since he had brought me here. The last memory I have of a normal life is when I was walking down a lonely street to buy a few grocery items. I wanted to ask why had he brought me here but I couldn’t, he wouldn’t let me. Suddenly his phone rang; with my red burnt eyes I could notice a broken screen. He had not received a call from anyone but it was an alarm which had went off. He turned it off, put his earphones on and went near the mirror. I had no idea what he was going to do when he did something which was again very “unusual”. He started practicing words in an accent which sounded American. Why was he doing it? I had no idea why but I was astonished. It was irritating but it fascinated me. He was making fast hand gestures and speaking words from apparently a dictionary in his phone. For an entire half an hour he did it. I could see a sense of salvation in his eyes after he had completed this exercise.
I was so engrossed in the activities that he was doing that I forgot to struggle. And so I began struggling like a fish without water; I had no energy but applied all of it. I wanted answers, I was ready to be killed but I needed to know why. Finally he paid heed to my desperation and came near me. Just looking at me closely, he was lethally close. So close that I could hear him breath. My eyes pleaded pity, from him for me. But he kept looking at me expressionlessly for a few seconds before he took out a long, sharp knife and pierced into my neck right then. I was killed by him, brutally killed. I struggled a lot, wrenching in pain, did not want to die but died in three seconds.
“I feel that with every such dream, I am killing myself a little bit. Every single day!” said Sparsh. Doctor Batra, a young lady in her early 30s was quite taken aback with what she had heard, not that she was not used to it but it did frighten her every time, but somehow she maintained her cool and answered, “Woah! That was quite a dream, Sparsh! You are visiting for the tenth time, every time you have new stories to share but there is one commonality in them.” “what?” asks Sparsh, clean shaven in knee length shorts and t shirt. “Your stories always end up on a sadistic note. Someone or the other is killed, mostly being you. You are highly insecure about yourself. Keep expressing yourself as much as you can, staying an introvert cannot help you always.” Sparsh smiles at the doctor, gets up from his resting bed, prepares to leave and says, “Ambivert madam. That is what I would like you to call me.” Saying this he wears his jacket, chains it fully, puts his hands in his pocket and walks away. Dr. Batra kept looking till his figure disappeared from her vision. After he went away, she heaved a sigh of relief and picked up his file. It read, “A serial killer. Likes to narrate his murders as dreams in first person.”

LOVE

I saw her again, walking across the street, wearing nothing fancy. Strands of hair covering her vision. It was indeed amazing how effortlessly beautiful she was, never ceased to amaze me. I kept looking at her, I was getting late for office but losing on a sight of her was difficult. She was as beautiful as an artist's dream. Her big eyes twinkling in the broad daylight, I could not keep my eyes off her eyes. They are indeed mirror to the soul, I through her eyes, could see right into her soul. I wish I could keep staring at her while I was dumbstruck but soon she was out of my vision.

As I proceeded towards my office, I could not keep thoughts of her away from my mind. She was not only beautiful from the outside but she was beautiful inside out. I remember the day when I had lost my job and one sentence from her helped me forget all my sorrows, "Fuck it! The company didn't deserve you. You are my precious, deserving something bigger and you will get it, just keep the dimpled smile on all the time. It has magical powers." And on came a smile on my face. Not that this helped me slog any less to find a new job but it filled in me an energy to slog harder, to move with swifter speed. I was indeed blessed to have her in my life.

Suddenly sadness struck me when I realised that she would not remain mine in a few year's time. We will meet but not as often as we do now. I will not find her by my side in the middle of the night when I will need a shoulder to cry. We will no longer share those random laughs. But in a way I am happy, we had to part ways, she had to find someone apart from me who could keep her happy for her lifetime. She, my sister was soon going to be married to another man. I will miss her but she will always remain the first woman in my life, the woman of my dreams, an inspiration. She, was my first love.