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
She heard Dad calling her mother. It was too cold outside. Dad had been calling her name since long. Why wasn't Mom getting up? Like previous times Dad had returned late from work. Even in her sleep she could feel his presence. He had knelt down before her bed and parted the strands of hair on her forehead. Then he had bent down and kissed her cheeks. The next morning when she had woken up Dad was gone again. How tired he must've been and to keep him waiting at such an hour of the night in the nail-biting cold was a crime. And then she realised that Mom had fallen asleep after a hard day's work. She hurried down from the bed and ran towards the main door. She knew immediately after getting in Dad would curse at Mom with 'Were you dead?'. Then he'd rush upstairs into his study and lock himself up. Despite knowing eavesdropping was wrong she had tiptoed up to her Dad's closed door many times. Anirban would be having a row with someone over phone. She could recall a few words like 'Tende
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
Slowly the living souls came down on the muddy road. They started their journey again. She was walking beside him. Her eyes held that same innocence. But a question was aimed at him this time. And it seemed to pierce his heart. He increased his pace. He wanted to walk away from her. From others. But an individual's wishes were not considered here. One had to go with the tide.Suddenly a voice boomed in the sky above. 'I don't like torturers. Severe punishments await them. But if anyone is repentent and makes best efforts to rectify themselves I may forgive them. Those of you who have played roles in destruction in your lives - I won't spare you. Those who have been cruel to the orphans, the destitute and homeless would have to burn in fire to cleanse your souls of the evil. I hate those who have misused funds. Those who were busy maligning others and spreading hatred will be punished. Those who have wrongly accused innocent women would be dealt with severly. Those who are proud, arrog
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
Now pronounced disability stood around him like the leafless trees smeared in darkness. Nobody was walking. Nobody was standing properly either. Nothing was moving anywhere. A subtle consciousness of mixed emotions - astonishment, sorrow and loneliness formed lumps inside the throat but wasn't able to manifest itself fully in the end. The divine revelation continued his speech above their heads. 'Those of you who have made it till here - the time for your final verdict has appeared. From here the path will divide into two. One goes towards heaven, the other towards hell. A sky-scraping wall separates the two. Positioned on the wall are my dedicated messengers since time immemorial. Judging the karma of your human births they will decide who chooses which path. The door of heaven would never open for those who've insulted me, been rude to others. But those who've never lost trust in me, have been honest throughout their lives, always cared for others shall always find place in heaven.
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
Copyright © 2019 by Abhik Dasgupta Disclaimer: This is an original work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, actual places or actual events is purely coincidental. The reference of ghosts, supernatural entities, black magic, occult rituals, superstitions etc. in the content are necessary elements for creation of plot and the author does not in any way endorse or promote the same. The readers are requested to enjoy the story with an unprejudiced mind. Mental illnesses play a significant role in the story. Through the work, the author wishes to raise mental health awareness and tackle the social stigma associated with psychological diseases. All rights reserved. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material including blurbs, descriptions, cover/ promotional photos, teaser, trai