Suddenly he felt a hand pull him away and close a door behind. There was a flicker of light and it appeared someone had lit a candle. Then everything went black around him again. When he regained consciousness he found himself lying on a cot with a pillow tucked under his head. It was day and the sunlight was streaming through the openings in the white coloured walls around him. The fragrance of agarbattis filled the room. A fair, benign, saintly man in his mind sixties was caressing his forehead. The man had long, curly hairs, a tilak drawn on his forehead and a soothing smile. In his other hand he held a rudraksha garland. 'Where am I?' Arunava asked and tried to get up. But the man gently laid him down saying 'Not now, now, you are still weak, my son' Then looking at the inquisitive expression on his face took him into confidence. 'You are in safe hands now. Don't worry. Take some more rest. Come, have this glass of milk first. Then some breakfast. I'm sure you haven't had anythin

It was a December night at Kolkata before Christmas. The cold had just started to show it's teeth and nails. A time when people hid themselves inside the trusting sheathe of blankets and quilts.However, barely a month more would the residents of the city be lucky enough to get a taste of winter. For the rest of the year the tiresome humidity and untimely rainfall awaited them. Perhaps I should've said a number of people and not all when I said people slept peacefully inside the cosy comforts of blankets and quilts. For many weren't lucky enough to procure them or to even have a roof above their heads for that matter. These hapless people who were generally beggars or ragpickers lighted little fires with twigs and dry leaves of trees. Often stray dogs joined them in their struggle to somehow pass away the night and long for the mercy of sun god when his seven horses would spread radiance and heat into the earth and rescue them from their state of helplessness. And this hope and wait c

There was darkness all around. He strained his eyes but could hardly make out anything. Then slowly shapes of wild bushes and creepers appeared. He discovered himself lying on his back with no sky above his head. How long had he been lying there? He had no idea. He rose up and sat down on the ground with legs straightened before him. He turned his head around in the hope of finding a way around. He didn't feel any fatigue. As if a long period of sleep had rejuvenated his energy. But how strange the shrubs were here. There was no smell in them. He tried to touch them but couldn't. The branches were withered and dry without leaves. Is it winter here? How did he come to such a place? He tried to remember but in vain. Nobody was speaking around him. But there had been people even a little while ago, he could bet. He had felt their presence. Were they too sleeping like him ? Where are they now? He couldn't remember anything before or after that incident. He was feeling very lighter now. H

Scaring the shits out of him a young lady stormed inside. He recognised her immediately to be Sara - his neighbour. They stayed in the same barrack quarters. Despite their age difference of ten years they were quite friends. She was physical instructor Mr. Snehashish Dutta's only daughter. This was the man who had cured him of acrophobia. 'What's up? Won't let me in? Whom did you expect at this hour? A hooligan? A fugitive? Well he must be lion-hearted then .. a gem of a criminal .. to have hoodwinked the security. Did you expect an old rival?' When Sara spoke her words flew copiously like a mountain spring without giving the listener any chance to reply. Then eying the bottle and half-filled glass on his table she asked. 'Partying alone?' There was a twinkle in Sara's eyes. 'Just stressed out a bit', he shrugged. 'Well .. lemme guess .. you must've had a fight with your boss .. no .. you have that every other day. Then any particular case you're worried about?' The words were cascad

Arunava shouted his lungs out. But his cries got lost amidst the incantations and noise. Tears rolled down his eyes. He remembered the police station he served. He found himself sitting at his desk with coffee. He saw the white board crammed with charts based more of his imagination than clues or crime scene evidences - which appeared like jigsaw puzzles to others in the Department, a child's meaningless scribblings to his boss who wondered how Arunava had passed the IPS interview. But it was an exercise which always led to the truth in the end, much to the discomfort of his peers eyeing the promotion ladder. He always knew he was made for the job. Images of his village, his home, his parents flitted by. Since when did he last paid them a visit? It's been ages he had food cooked by his mother. Would his parents be able to cope up with the pain of their eldest son's death? After he was gone, who would pay for his brother's education? He was a good painter too and had ambitions of holdi