As he found himself lifted into the air with his head banging on the compartment ceiling Arunava closed his eyes and waited. He waited for he knew he stood little chance of fighting back. But the last confrontation with the masked man at Shivangi's flat and now these dreams had made him consider the myth about incarnations he had read in fictional novels. According to the rebirth theory if he was really an avataar of Vikramaditya he knew there must be a greater purpose in his life and he wasn't going to die without having attained it. He waited for the creature of the other world to discover the birth mark on his chest. It seemed to read his feelings and suddenly driving him up the wall broke down into peals of laughter - the maniacal laughter Arunava was accustomed of hearing.'So you thought I'd get pissed off seeing just a tattoo? You forget my friend that I'm not dead like other soldiers of the great Vetaal's army. No, no don't give me that all-knowing look. Neither am I alive. I
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
A man was walking leisurely down the road. When Arunava asked where the nearest bus stop was he measured him with a mixed expression of surprise and irritation. 'No buses ply in this road. You seem to be a newcomer to this area. What happened? Your car broke down? Hmmm .. there's a mechanic who lives three kilometres down here. I can give you his number. But I need ..'Arunava knew what he needed. At other times he would've slapped him twice. Once for seeking bribe from a police officer and twice for talking too much without listening; but now in a remote place several kilometres away from Kolkata, in a devastated condition; he needed help desperately. He had tried to reach railway enquiry on mobile but could not. The internet had also stopped working. The man seemed to be a local from his accent. His torn clothes, sewed at places and a large jute bag on his shoulders told him that he was a vagabond, probably a ragpicker.. 'I want to reach the nearest railway station quickly. How far i
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