Kavya Janani U.'s Blog, page 4

Kashmora’s Bungalow – Horror Short Story (Part 1)

I wrote this two-part short story in 2015.

Saurabh and Kiara stood triumphantly in front of their newly built house, watching it with a sense of ebullience. It was a bungalow. Painted elegantly in pristine white, the interiors of the bungalow were a visual delight for them. The huge hall contained plush Victorian furniture. There were two bedrooms, a kitchen, and a restroom adjoining the hall, each room carrying its own artistic intricacy. To the left of the hall was a flight of stairs that led to the top floor consisting of another bedroom, a small reading space, and the entrance to the terrace. The elegance of the bungalow could not be explained in words. It was spacious, bringing in cool air from outside, as it was situated at the foot of the Nilgiris mountain range.

“I know you have loved such artistic bungalows. That’s why I built one for you. Do you like it?” asked Saurabh. Kiara did not reply. Instead, she moved closer to him and kissed him on his cheek. It was her way of thanking him.

Kiara began dusting the sofas with a worn-out towel. While doing so, she picked up an old newspaper, which, according to her, wasn’t there when she had started dusting. Creasing her eyebrows, she grabbed at it.

“Saurabh, did you notice this newspaper lying here before?” she asked, flipping through the pages of the newspaper.

“I didn’t observe, Kia. It must have flown from the teapoy,” he answered, absentmindedly.

“I can accept your explanation if it was a single paper. But it’s an entire newspaper. How can it fly away from the teapoy? It defies every law in Physics.”

“Never mind. You might have not noticed properly. Why are you blowing this up into a big issue?”

“Maybe you’re right. I might have not noticed properly.” She was about to throw away the newspaper when something caught her eye. It was a special news article named, ‘The curious case of Kashmora: the girl who was ridiculed for her unusual name’. Flailing the towel away from her shoulder, Kiara plopped down on one of the sofas and skimmed through the article.

‘Kashmora. Have you heard of her? Many people aren’t even aware that such a girl existed. She was a beautiful 19-year-old girl wronged for the weirdest reason ever. It was her name that caused trouble for her, driving her to death. Yes, you read it right. She is dead. Or people have assumed her to be dead.

Kashmora was a girl from Calicut who possessed a plethora of talents. She could paint, sing, and dance. But she wasn’t able to come out and showcase her talents properly, all because of her name. She was demeaned in reality shows just because she had a name that was not acceptable by society.

The meaning of ‘kashmora’ literally translates to an occult practice followed in many parts of India. The girl was named Kashmora by a wizard. The reason was Kashmora’s dad was a Tantrik who wished to name his daughter after his favourite occult practice. But he died due to a brain tumour (which couldn’t be even cured by the so-called ‘magic’) and Kashmora’s mother named her ‘Kashmora’. Though the name didn’t make any difference to her initially, it soon turned out to be the hot topic of humiliation. She was ashamed of herself and requested her mom change her name. But her mom denied it, citing that she must be devoted to her ‘dead’ husband. Soon, Kashmora was diagnosed with depression.

In August 2010, Kashmora had written a letter to her mother stating that she was going to end her life. She had also added that her body would never be found. With that, she disappeared. Even after an extensive search, she was never found. The Internet also could not help in finding her or her body (if she had died by suicide). That was the end of Kashmora, a girl with unsung wishes. It has been three years since her presumed death. It is as if Kashmora had never existed. If the girl had been accepted by society with her original name, she would have survived by now. She might also have become a celebrity. But we, as human beings, were unfair to her. It was not her name; it was we who drove her to death.

This strangely happens only in India. Ridiculing people with their names. Why can’t we just embrace the fact that people are meant to be weighed by their character and not by their name? Let’s begin to accept people for what they are and for the good qualities they possess. Let’s not degrade or discourage anyone because of their name. I hopefully pray for Kashmora’s soul to find peace in heaven. Ponder upon what I have voiced and send your feedback to  maliniranga113@yahoo.com .’

Astonished would be an understatement for what Kiara was experiencing at that moment. Her lemon-yellow skin procured a reddish tone. Her doe-shaped eyes and her pink lips contorted into angst, thinking about the plight of poor Kashmora. Tucking some of her curls behind her ears, she placed the newspaper on the teapoy and turned to Saurabh. The broad-chinned man looked at his wife with a sense of anticipation. Inquisitiveness was hovering in the space between his bushy eyebrows.

“What’s up, Kia? You have turned all sweaty.” He moved closer to her.

“Is this story true?” She gently dragged him to the teapoy and pointed at the article in the newspaper. He picked it up and read the complete feature.

“Ah! Yes, I have heard about her. I was all agog when I listened to the story from my mother. I had Googled about her and found the story to be indeed true. Kashmora remains to be one of the mysteries of India. I don’t know where she is or where her body is. Well, it doesn’t matter to us. Even though we sympathize with her, we cannot do anything about it now. We-“

SLAM! The front door of the bungalow slammed violently, frightening both Saurabh and Kiara. They stood still for a few moments. The shocking aspect was that there was no wind blowing outside and even then the door had shut by itself. And what happened the next second will be the eeriest experience they would ever have. The door opened slowly, by itself. It was as if someone was turning the doorknob. As they watched in horror, the door once again slammed shut. Kiara clutched Saurabh’s shoulder and hid her face. A hot stream of tears wetted his t-shirt. Saurabh patted Kiara’s head, reassuring her.

“How did this happen?” She asked teary-eyed.

“I – I cannot figure out. Maybe the wind…”

“There is no wind. It’s sunny outside.”

Kiara’s voice was shaking. Just then, a chill breeze swept past her face. It was jittering cold. She shivered for a second.

“Saurabh…Touch my cheeks!” she screamed.

Saurabh touched her cheeks and found them to be icy cold. Then he touched his cheeks. They were, as usual, warm and dry.

“Something swept past me. It was gelid!”

“Cool down, Kia! Nothing. It’s nothing. Don’t worry.” He pulled her into a tight embrace. Soon the chillness from her cheeks dried away. The rest of the day passed by as usual.

*****

NIGHT 1:

2 AM. Kiara shuddered and woke up startled. She was perspiring profusely. She heard someone scream at a high pitch. It almost sounded like a banshee’s scream. Terrified, she opened the door and went to the hall to investigate. Her fingers moved to the switchboard. She was terribly afraid of darkness. She switched the chandelier on and examined the hall. There was no one around. She entered the kitchen next, only to be met with silence. She explored the other bedroom too. But she couldn’t find the source of the scream. Maybe someone might have screamed from outside. Thinking so, she unlatched the doorknob and went to the porch. Not even a single person was in sight. The heavily designed metal gate stood strongly, blocking her view of the street. She locked the main door and entered the hall. Reaching the flight of stairs to the left of the hall, she stared at it, contemplating whether to climb up and investigate the upper bedroom. But her conscience decided the better of it. Dismissing the scream as a bad nightmare, she set foot inside ‘their’ bedroom which was right opposite the staircase.

She tried to wake Saurabh up. But then she thought that he might get annoyed by her experiences which were childish. Slowly, she fell asleep.

The next morning, Kiara decided to speak to her husband about her horrifying mini adventure the night before. The reason was, she found the same newspaper that carried the ‘Kashmora’ article beside their bed. Picking up the paper with trembling hands, she tugged at Saurabh who was hurriedly brushing his teeth.

“What?” He asked through the foam surrounding his mouth.

“Now what do you say to this?” She held the paper in front of his eyes.

“What about that?”

“I found this beside our bed now. How can a newspaper from the teapoy end up beside our bed?” Her tone was sarcastic.
Though Saurabh was equally horrified to hear that, he pretended to be calm and replied, “Look, Kia, I think you are forgetting things. You might have placed it beside our bed.”

“Don’t ridicule my memory. I didn’t place it over there. How can you blame me?”

“See, I don’t have time to argue now. I have to go to work. Please prepare some breakfast. We will discuss this in the evening.”

Glaring at her husband, Kiara moved on to do her chores, forgetting to mention her midnight escapade.

After having his breakfast, Saurabh noticed Kiara dressing up. “Where are you going?”

“To meet the publisher. I have completed the final draft. The manuscript is ready. I need to see my name in print as soon as possible.” She spoke all those in a single breath.

“Okay, baby, go ahead. I am proud that my wife, too, will become an author soon. Your novel should be a bestseller like my two novels.” He cupped her cheeks as he spoke that.

“Why don’t you leave your hectic software job and turn into a full-time novelist? It might help you in completing your third novel. We have enough money with us,” she said with genuine concern in her voice.

“I am planning to do that soon!” He assured her and started his car, offering to drop her at the publisher’s house.

‘Please do that soon, Saurabh. I cannot stay alone at home with terrible things happening around me,’ she thought. For a moment, she looked back at the bungalow and her eyes registered the eerie newspaper on the porch!

*****

NIGHT 2:

The alarm clock went off at 3 AM. Saurabh rubbed his eyes and switched it off. He couldn’t remember setting the alarm. He looked at his wife who was sleeping soundly. All of a sudden, he felt extremely thirsty. He opened the door and entered the hall. As he walked towards the kitchen, he froze on his path. In the streetlight reflection which was strewn across the hall, he saw a shadow of a woman. What terrified him more was, the shadow resembled his wife. Sweat beads broke on his forehead. He retraced his steps back to the bedroom. Switching on the light, he noticed his wife, sleeping in a fetal position, uninterrupted. Once again he went back to the hall, only to find the shadow in the same place. All the hairs on his body were erected in goosebumps. And then it dawned upon him. The shadow wasn’t that of a woman at all. It just appeared to be in the shape of a woman. But it was just the shadow of the curtain at the entrance of the kitchen. The curtain’s shadow resembled that of a woman, which appeared like Kiara’s shadow.

Saurabh let out an uneasy chuckle that was mixed with relief. He had never believed in ghosts in the first place. Quenching his thirst, he went back to sleep. What he missed noticing was the shadow of a woman forming in the ray of light from the kitchen, though the curtain was pulled aside!

*****

NIGHT 3:

Kiara felt the urge to throw up. She opened the attached restroom and vomited violently. To her dismay, no water flowed from the tap. She tried all the taps in all the restrooms on the ground floor but in vain. It was midnight and she didn’t dare to wake her husband.

She switched on the staircase light and confidently climbed up. Though she dreaded the upper floor, she mustered the courage to open the bedroom. As her fingers searched for the switchboard, a soft humming emanated from a corner of the room. The staircase light wasn’t enough to light up the bedroom. She made her way through the darkness to find the origin of the humming. She was sweating a lot as she advanced further inside the room. It was a larger bedroom than the others on the ground floor. She tried to speak, but no words came out of her mouth.

Suddenly, the darkness of the room was shattered by an ear-splitting thunder accompanied by lightning. In that fraction of a second, Kiara’s eyes made out the silhouette of a woman. She gasped in horror as her heart pumped with fear. Her breathing became faster. She tried to dash out but she couldn’t move her legs. She was almost paralyzed. There was no more lightning and the room was once again filled with darkness. Finally, she found her voice, “Who – Who is there?”

“Hahaha!” A shrill of devilish laughter filled the entire room.

Kiara adjusted her eyes in the darkness. But the silhouette wasn’t clear enough to reveal itself.

“You are scaring me. What do you want? Who are you?” Her entire body was trembling.

The silhouette began to emanate hushed sobs, sometimes laughing and sometimes groaning.

Kiara’s eyes brimmed with tears and she was ready to collapse at any moment. “Are you a spirit?” She put forward the question carefully since she had no rational explanation for a human being to enter the house when it was always locked in the absence of the owners.

“YES!” came the reply in a high pitch.

“What?!” Kiara hollered. “Why are you here?” She found her confidence bouncing back in, though it was a gradual progress.

“This is my place. Get out!” The spirit’s voice was determined. A dim bluish light filled the entire room and the spirit came into the display. She was a young girl, beauty personified. Her mascara-lined eyes, her beautiful fluffy lips, and her soft spotless cheeks were assets to die for. Wearing a pitch-black saree that showed off her curves, the spirit looked like a goddess rather than a ghost. Kiara couldn’t believe her own eyes. She never knew that spirits could be ravishing. The spirit moved closer to her and stared hard into her eyes as if hypnotizing her.

“Why do you call this place yours?” Though her rational mind screamed at her to run away from the place, she faced the ghost with some kind of renewed confidence. Maybe the appearance of the spirit looked deceptive.

“I don’t need to give explanations to you. I just want your husband and you to immediately evacuate this place.” The spirit’s voice sounded sweet.

“But this bungalow is mine! I won’t vacate it.” Kiara was aware of the consequences of behaving rudely with a spirit.

“I said LEAVE! Otherwise, both of you will be trapped forever. You will be my slaves. I will take away your souls to my world. Either give me the bungalow or suffer. The choice is yours.”

Kiara fidgeted with her fingers. She turned around to move away. But the staircase was gone. There was only a hollow space behind her. It was as if there was no bungalow and she was in some kind of netherworld.

“You cannot leave this room without answering me.”

“I – I don’t know what to do. Please let me go!” The fear of losing her precious bungalow to a spirit petrified Kiara.

“Are you ready to lose your soul then?” The spirit spoke in a seductive voice as if seeking fresh blood.

“No!” Her reply was rather quick. “By the way, who are you?” It dawned upon her that she had not asked about the spirit’s identity. Her stomach churned as she thought about the possibility of the spirit being the one she had imagined.

“KASHMORA!” The spirit shrieked.

Kiara gasped. “Kash – Kashmora?! Are you the one about who I read? Why are you here? Did you make that wretched newspaper appear in front of me always?”
There was another screeching laugh from the spirit.

“Kia, where are you?” Somewhere behind Kiara, Saurabh’s voice wafted through the still environment. She was relieved. Her husband was climbing up the staircase to find her. He entered the bedroom and was startled to see Kashmora, with a wicked smile pasted across her face. He had already seen her images on Google. He stood dumbstruck for a few minutes before he realized the intensity of the moment.

“What the hell is happening here, Kia?”

“I – I don’t know…”

“This is Kashmora! What are you doing here when the entire world is searching for you?” he asked Kashmora, unaware of the fact that she was a spirit. He pulled Kiara closer to him as Kashmora was engaged in her thoughts.

“I am the soul of Kashmora. My body is buried inside the ground on which this bungalow has been built. I had ended my life by throwing myself into a sinkhole that’s outside this bungalow. Nobody could even suspect where my body was. I thought this would remain a wasteland forever. But I secretly hoped that someone would build a house so that my soul can haunt it. And you did it. I have no other way now. I am going to stay here and fulfil my second desire.”

“What is that?” asked Saurabh, unperturbed by the fact that he was facing a ghost.

“I wouldn’t tell that to you. I am sure that you would exorcise me if I tell you about it. Now, just leave this bungalow as it is. I am going to haunt this place.”

“Look! We cannot do that. But I can offer a part of this bungalow to you. The entire upper floor is yours. You can haunt it how much ever you want. We’ll seal the entrance of the staircase and we’ll never disturb you. We are authors. Once we finish our work, I assure you, we’ll leave this bungalow immediately. Do you accept this?” Saurabh put forth his idea. Though his entire body was shaking, he tried to negotiate with the spirit. He couldn’t afford to lose the precious bungalow which was a gift for his wife.

Kiara swayed from his grip and yelled, “Are you nuts? How can we live with a spirit in our house?” she yelled.

“Understand me, Kia. There is no way out of this mess. We have invited trouble. We shouldn’t have built this bungalow here. While the construction was going on, one of our workers complained of a rusting manhole lid. It was I who told them to ignore it and continue building. But I didn’t even have a faint idea that a girl might have thrown herself inside it. Trust me, Kia, Kashmora might be a good spirit. She wouldn’t disturb us. When she lived, she was wronged for her name. Let her at least achieve peace as a wandering soul.” He spoke determinedly.

Though Saurabh made sense, Kiara reluctantly nodded her head. All she could think about was the fate of her invaluable bungalow that she had come to love, despite its supernaturality.

Kashmora held an evil smile. ‘Yes, at least a part of this bungalow is mine now. My first desire is achieved.’ Right after that, she disappeared. The dim bluish light also vanished. The husband-wife duo found themselves in the hall, surrounded by aromatic candles and writing on the wall which read, “Thank you”.

As promised, the entrance to the staircase was sealed. Saurabh and Kiara revealed the presence of Kashmora’s spirit to the entire world through the press and social media. Though people did not completely believe their tale, they were convinced up to an extent. Once again, Kashmora became viral news in India. People began to feel sympathetic for her. Those who visited the bungalow stayed away from the staircase. They did not feel the presence of any spirit in the other parts of the house.

Soon, Saurabh and Kiara published their respective novels and vacated the bungalow. A ‘To let’ board was hung with a large paragraph of warning. But for a year, there were no takers for the bungalow. It was deserted and it really resembled a haunted bungalow.

(To be continued…)

Revelation – Family Short Story

I wrote this short story in 2015.

Pallavi stared at the empty plate, which was placed before her on the dinner table. She picked up the spoon and made rhythmic tinkling sounds. The aroma of steaming hot Sambar from the kitchen was making her stomach rumble with excessive hydrochloric acid. Minutes later, idlis were brought by her father Sudheep. Harini, her mom, brought the Sambar straight from the gas stove. Flashing a hungry look, Pallavi helped herself to three idlis and a cup of sambar. It was her habit to dip a piece of idli into the sambar until it was coated on all sides. She loved to have it like that.

As she was dipping her first piece, she remembered what she had to confess to her parents. Abandoning the piece of idli, she looked up and faced them. They were enjoying their meal with a smile on their faces. There was a sense of satisfaction on her mom’s face and a sense of achievement on her dad’s face. They were proud that they had successfully brought up their 17-year-old daughter who would be turning 18 two days later. Nevertheless, they were unaware of the unfortunate event that was to occur.

“Ma, Pa, I know the truth,” said Pallavi, bluntly. Her voice was bereft of any emotions. It was just a plain confession. She knew the truth and she had to let her parents know that she knew the truth.

“What truth?” It was her father who reacted quickly.

“The truth which you have been hiding for a long time.”

“What truth?” Her mom copyrighted her dad’s sentence.

“I hope that there is only one truth which you have hidden. Or are there many?”

“We are your parents. We might have many things, which we would not want to reveal to children. So we might have hidden them,” her mom’s words flew like the fire spat by a dragon.

“But I would have known this. It is about me that you have hidden. How can you say that I should not know about that? I am no more a child; I am turning 18 the day after tomorrow .”

Their worst fears were coming true. Their daughter was questioning them. Though they knew what she had found out, they were no less ashamed. There were too many unanswered questions swarming through their mind.

“I know about my birth. I am not your daughter. I am someone else’s. How could you hide this from me for so many years?”
Sudheep and Harini held grim faces. They could not face their daughter at the cost of a discovery that was never meant to be discovered.

Pallavi continued, “Are you wondering how I came to know about it? It was Ma’s diary which told me the entire story..”

Harini’s face contorted with agony. She silently cursed herself for placing her diary on the windowsill while cleaning the room. Her attitude of not placing things back in their place had paid her well in the form of a stunning revelation by Pallavi. Sudheep glared at Harini for her carelessness.

“We were planning to tell you….” began Sudheep.

“Please don’t bluff, Pa. You would never have told me. Did you think that you could hide this from me forever?”

Sudheep and Harini were speechless. They were contemplating what to say next.

“Where does my father live?” demanded Pallavi.

“Your father is here, right opposite you,” said Harini, hoping that her daughter would change the topic.

Pallavi smirked at her mom’s puny ways of deviating from a topic and treating her like a five-year-old.

“I mean my biological father. Does that make sense to you? I know that my biological mother passed away and my lonely, single dad gave me away to you. Now, could you please help me meet my real father?”

Sudheep could hear his heart tear into pieces. He had never imagined that one day, his beloved daughter would be asking for her real father while ignoring his presence in her life. Harini couldn’t stop the tears that were flowing from her eyes. She could not digest the fact that Pallavi had discovered everything due to a petty mistake committed by her.

The next few minutes were nostalgic reminisces of Pallavi’s birth. The entire house echoed with the sob story of a girl separated from her biological father.

*****

“Major Aravind Narayanan. Ooty.” Pallavi repeated to herself.

She sat in front of her desktop computer and started the machine. The friendly user interface of Windows 98 welcomed her. The desktop background read, “Happy New Year 2000!”. It was an image containing fireworks which she had received via e-mail. Smiling, she opened the dial-up connection dialogue box and connected to the Internet. She opened Internet Explorer and typed on the address bar http://www.google.com. The Google Search page appeared. Pallavi typed, “Major Aravind Narayanan”. The search results threw up. She scrolled through the results. But to her disappointment, none of the results was directed to Major Aravind Narayanan who she was searching for.

‘Arvind Swamy? Why the hell should I search for that actor? I am searching for my dad.’ Pallavi was annoyed and she cursed Google for being such a poor search engine. She even tried Yahoo Search. But the results were worse than Google’s.

Fed up, she shut down her computer and sighed at her reflection in the mirror. Her foster father had mentioned only the name and place of her biological father. Even though she prodded on for more, he feigned ignorance. Her foster mother, too, didn’t know anything about her Army father – Major Aravind Narayanan.

She sprung from her bed and dashed for the landline telephone as if a thunderbolt had struck her. She called her close friend Amritha and relayed the news to her. She then called a few other friends and asked them to enquire about Major Aravind Narayanan. By the end of the day, she received nothing. Nobody knew about such a person.

‘I have to take a decision now. Either I must go to Ooty and find my father or I must merely ignore his existence and carry on with my life.’ Though Pallavi was desperate to meet her real father, she did not have any clues to find him other than his name and place. Finally, she made up her mind to travel to Ooty.

Within the next three hours, she had the train tickets in her hand. She was leaving for Ooty on that night by Nilgiri Express. She knew that her journey was going to be a difficult one. However, her sudden surge of love for her real father made her blind to everything else. Sudheep and Harini tried to stop her. They narrated happy incidents from their life to make her realize that she can live only with them. They warned her about the risk of travelling alone to Ooty. They frightened her by telling stories of wild animals on the prowl in Mudumalai Sanctuary but she was unperturbed. Her sole aim was to find her real father and live with him for the rest of her life. She did not realize the love of her foster parents, which she had been receiving right from her childhood. Finding her biological father was the best gift that she could give to herself on her birthday.

*****

“Sorry, we don’t know about him,” said the manager of Gem Park Hotel in Ooty. Pallavi had checked in one hour ago. Since then she had been inquiring about each member of the hotel staff about Major Aravind Narayanan. Nobody could give her any information about him. She even asked some tourists, in vain.

After refreshing herself, she set out for a walk on Sheddon Road. The Botanical Gardens was only two kilometres away. She walked for three minutes before she came to a stop at a teashop. She enquired the shopkeeper. He blinked at her. Then he shook his head and went back to his chores.

‘No use!’ she thought and walked away. She then noticed a few residential buildings. She had a faint hope that one of them could be her biological father’s house. She knocked on one and met an old woman.

“Yes, child, what do you want?” The old woman asked in a quivering voice.

“I am Pallavi from Chennai. I have come in search of a person called Major Aravind Narayanan. Do you know about him?”

The old woman squinted and then ushered Pallavi inside. Though she was reluctant to go inside a stranger’s house, Pallavi’s instinct urged her to trust her. The woman offered her a glass of water, which Pallavi declined.

“Can you repeat the name, child?”

“Major Aravind Narayanan. Does that name ring a bell to you?”

“Yeah, I think I have heard about him. He was an Army General in Delhi. As his hometown is Ooty, he used to visit this place frequently. He owns a house, too, an isolated one on Woodcock Road. He never spoke with anyone. He didn’t have any friends over here. He used to shut himself up in his house. I don’t even know whether he stays there anymore.”

“Wowww! Thank you, paati. I didn’t expect that you could tell me about him. By the way, does anyone else know about him?”

“No. Nobody knows anything about him. They only know his house, nothing else.”

“Thank you so much, paati.” Pallavi smiled and then received the glass of water from the old woman.

*****

‘So, Woodcock road it is,’ thought Pallavi and stopped an auto-rickshaw that was passing by. As soon as she said that she wanted to be dropped in Woodcock Road, the auto driver looked at her strangely.

“What happened, anna? Why are you looking like that?”

“Nothing ma, nobody has travelled to Woodcock Road in my rickshaw. That’s why I looked shocked. There is only one house situated on the road. People say that an Army General lives in that house. I have seen him only a few times in the past. That too about seven years ago. I did not see him in recent times.”

“Oh, my God! Anna, I am going to that house only. Please drop me there!”

The rickshaw ride was a bumpy one. Pallavi felt nauseated.

‘Once I meet my dad, nausea would surely fly away.’ She thought happily. After 10 minutes, the rickshaw driver stopped at a beautifully built house. Pallavi alighted from the rickshaw and paid the driver. She opened the large gate of the house and walked on the gravel that led to the main door. She rang the doorbell and impatiently waited for the man who had given birth to her to open the door.

The door creaked open slowly. On the other side, a heftily built 45-year-old man stared hard at Pallavi. He was muscular and well-shaved. He had a forlorn look in his eyes. A painful longing was written all over his face. He took a moment to register the girl standing before him. She was brownish and had doe-shaped eyes. Her hair was curly, with a few curls standing out behind her ears. She had soft tender lips, which were curved into a beautiful smile.

“Yes?” The man asked her.

“Dad,” she replied, tears forming in her eyes.

“Pallavi?!” He stared at her. The next moment, he shed tears. He had never imagined that he would meet his long-lost daughter one day. He knew she was in Chennai but he did not expect that she would come in search of him. He was shocked beyond words. He could not even recognize his daughter. She had all the traits of her mother. It was like seeing his dead wife, Latha, coming back to life. He invited her inside and closed the door behind them. There was a moment of silence as the father and daughter came to terms with each other’s presence.

“How are you, my baby?”

“I am great, Pa. How are you?” She replied in a trembling voice.

“I am fine. How did you find out about me?”

“From my mom’s diary. I read everything about my birth. When I asked my dad to reveal information about you, he told me that he knew only your name and place.”

“That’s true. When I gave you to the adoption centre, I urged the authorities to keep my identity confidential from the parents who would adopt you. They assured me that they would reveal only my name and place and nothing else. I agreed. I don’t even know who adopted you. I prayed to God that my daughter should be in safe hands. I am indeed surprised to see you grown up so well, hale and hearty.”

“Why, Pa? Why did you give me to the adoption centre? Why didn’t you make an effort to know who adopted me? Why didn’t you check whether I was taken care of or not? Did you hate me so much?”

Another surge of tears came flooding from Major Aravind Narayanan’s eyes. He could not answer his daughter’s questions. He knew he was answerable to her.

“I had a job in the army, dear. If your mom had been alive, I wouldn’t have given you to the adoption centre. But being a single dad I couldn’t take care of you. I was compelled to leave you in some other hands.”

“Now I have come back, Pa. I want to live the rest of my life with you. I am going to stay here forever.”

Major Aravind Narayanan was terrified to hear those words. “That cannot happen, Pallavi! You have to go back to your foster parents. Didn’t they take care of you well?”

“Pa! They are the best parents, but when I discovered my birth, I made up my mind to live with my real father. I want to feel the love of my biological father. Even though my dad takes good care of me, he is still my foster father. Nobody can replace you, Pa. Tell me. Don’t you love me? Don’t you wish to live with me?”

“Yeah, I love you, Pallavi. You don’t know the pain that I went through when I gave you away to the adoption centre. You are my dearest but you cannot live with me. You have to go back to them. Do you understand?”

“But, Pa, I am a grown-up now. I can live with you and take care of myself. I am not the small baby whom you gave away.”

“No, Pallavi, that’s not possible. You cannot give up on those who brought you up. You are answerable to them. Maybe you can live with me for a week but not longer than that!”

“Why, Pa?” Pallavi asked teary-eyed.

“Because I work for our country and also my army cantonment is in Delhi. I have just come for my vacation. I cannot take you there. It’s a dangerous place.”

Pallavi took a moment to digest the sentences that her father spoke. She had colourful dreams of living a happy life with her real father but all her hopes were shattered.

“Okay, Pa, I agree but let me feel your love at least for a week.”

“Okay, dear.” A sense of relief washed over him.

*****

The next week was a completely dream-come-true week for the father-daughter duo. Pallavi learnt a lot from her father. She learnt about his way of life and the wars he had been through. He narrated to her stories of his struggles with the enemies on the India-Pakistan border. He taught her to cook different recipes. They went for long walks in the evening all around Ooty. Her father made it a point to take her through roads that were devoid of people. When she asked about his odd choices, he replied that he always wished for serenity and that was why he had never mingled with anyone. They watched the stars together. Together, they sang and danced to songs on the TV. They enjoyed the rain. They planted saplings and watered them each day. They read books and narrated stories to each other. They were like the best father and daughter in the world.

Pallavi experienced the happiness that she had never experienced before. Her inner peace was restored by the freedom, that her dad gave her. ‘Sudheep Pa had never been like this with me. He was more concerned about his work. He never behaved like a friend to me,’ she thought. However, the harsh reality hit her soon. Even her biological father was immersed in his work. That’s why he had given her away to the adoption centre in the first place. However, he had compensated for all that he had lost by spending a week with her.

Finally, when the day arrived for Pallavi to go back, Major Aravind Narayanan was at a loss for words. Pallavi felt a lump in her throat as she waved a final goodbye to her father. She did not say that she would return. Something held her back from hugging her father. She knew that they did not have a life together. Hugging him and crying would only increase her hopes of staying back with him. Instead, she threw him a flying kiss and travelled to the railway station.

*****

Two months later…

“I need articles on wars that took place on the India-Pakistan border during 1993-1995,” shouted Pallavi to her friend Amritha.

“Please don’t yell!” The librarian warned her.

“Sorry, ma’am, she is in the next aisle, that’s why…” She moved away to meet her friend on the other side. Amritha was rummaging through old newspapers for articles on Indian wars.

“Why do you need these articles?” She asked Pallavi.

“I have an assignment on the topic ‘Wars on India-Pakistan border’,” Her thoughts wandered back to her father Major Aravind Narayanan who had narrated stories of the wars.

She pulled out some newspapers and skimmed through them for articles. A particular headline caught her off guard. She stared hard at it and then she began sweating heavily. Her breathing became irregular and she clutched Amritha’s shoulder for support. Her pulse was racing.

“Pallavi! What happened? Hey, are you okay?”

“Water…I…I need some wa..water..” She stuttered. A semblance of normalcy returned to Pallavi after she gulped the water brought by Amritha.

“What happened, Pallavi?”

Pallavi pointed to the headlines in the newspaper.

Major Aravind Narayanan shot dead. Army cantonment blew up by terrorists.

Pallavi pointed to the photo and said, “He is my biological dad whom I met two months ago.”

Amritha stared at the headlines. The date was ‘June 24, 1993’, almost seven years ago. Her heart skipped a beat as she recollected the stories that Pallavi told her after visiting her dad in Ooty. She threw the newspaper away and hugged a trembling Pallavi.

“I..I..met him…” She began crying.

Then it dawned upon her. ‘That’s why dad never took me through roads that had people so that they wouldn’t see a girl talking to herself. That’s why the locals told that they never saw him. That’s why dad didn’t hold my hand. That’s why I didn’t feel the urge to hug him and cry.’

She picked up the newspaper and kissed his photo. Then she took the small departing note that her dad’s soul had placed in her bag.

Pallavi, my dear daughter, I knew you were coming in search of me. I didn’t want to disappoint you, once again. That was why I was there at my home. I love you, always … Your dad.

If you loved this short story, you can read my other short stories here.

A Murder in Kaapiopsy – Crime Short Story

I wrote this short story in 2021 for the ‘Coffee and Crime’ contest on Wattpad.

With the paper straw perched between my thumb and index finger, I drew circles atop my cup of Belgian chocolate mocha. I was in one of those introspective moods which made me rethink my entire life according to my whims and fancies. I heaved a huge sigh as I realized that I was gradually settling into this mundane life instead of designing it as per my wishes.

I sipped on my mocha, revelling in its saccharine taste. The chocolate in it was already calming my nerves. If I wasn’t on a path of self-control, I would have ordered another cup of it. Meanwhile, my eyes roved around the café.

Kaapiopsy was a Victorian-styled café in Chandram. Our town was a quaint one, nestled amidst the Swamimalai hills. Elite coffee shops were a rarity here until an Anglo-Indian resident decided to open one. Within a few months, Kaapiopsy was thronging with customers. It was as if the people of Chandram were waiting for such a coffee shop to open. Though most of the customers were youngsters and tourists, one could spot a senior citizen here and there.

This eye-candy coffee shop was my favourite jaunt. I came here once every three days to rejuvenate myself. On most days, I didn’t bring any friends as my solitude was the best companion in that café. Apart from selling coffee and bites, Kaapiopsy also had a bookshelf and a souvenir shelf.

I finished my mocha and looked up to see a queue forming near the billing counter. Author Schwi Ken was signing copies of her new book, Till Death Comes Calling. I had brought my copy too. She was one of my favourite authors and I had never gotten a chance to meet her. So, it was a surprise when she announced on her Instagram page that she was visiting Chandram as a part of the book tour.

I waited for the crowd to disperse so I could have a few words with Schwi. After ten minutes, the crowd had cleared and Schwi fished out her mobile phone to click pictures. I stood up from my table, wore my hoodie, picked up my copy, and walked toward her. Two teens were about to bump me. To save myself from a nasty dash, I placed my hand on someone’s shoulder, who was on the table next to where I stood and balanced myself. Before that ‘someone’ could look up and scold me for touching them suddenly, I scurried away.

I met Schwi and talked to her for a few minutes. She answered all my questions patiently, gesticulating like an actress. Then I got my copy signed and left the café, satisfied that my evening was well spent.

*****

Being a copywriter was not an easy job. It wasn’t tough too. It was just monotonous, according to me. My dream was to start a mobile library and drive around Chandram and other nearby hill towns, inculcating the reading habit in people, procuring memberships, and even selling a few books. However, I needed funds to invest and working as a copywriter served my purpose.

After a hard day at the office, I entered Kaapiopsy to enjoy a cup of espresso. As soon as I entered, I realized that something was amiss. There were too many people. They weren’t occupying the tables, instead, they were huddled together. Among them, there were people from the press too. As I moved ahead, someone nudged me. I turned around and saw a woman about my age. She told me, “You’ve finally arrived, our main suspect.”

“Excuse me?” I said, confused.

“Don’t you know what happened here? Just look around,” she replied nonchalantly.

I looked around. And that’s when I noticed the yellow duct tape all over the place. I made my way through the crowd and reached the place where the police and the press were engaged in a heated discussion. The outline of a body was drawn with chalk on the granite floor. As I stood gazing at it, a woman police officer snapped her fingers in front of my face.

“Hello, I am Bansuri Mohanka, Superintendent of Police. I have to interrogate you as you are the prime suspect in this murder.”

“Me? I don’t even know that a murder has taken place here. I haven’t even seen the victim yet. How can I be the prime suspect?” I threw a barrage of questions at her.

“Calm down. What’s your name?” Her demeanour remained unchanged.

“Tapasya.”

“Full name?”

“Tapasya Gurumoorthy.”

“Okay, Tapasya, listen to me carefully. Yesterday, at 5.15 PM, a customer named Linu Veshak was at this coffee shop along with his friend. After having his coffee, he started walking toward the souvenir shelf when he stumbled and fell face-down on the aisle. His friend rushed toward him to check but Linu didn’t respond. That’s when a doctor was called in. The doctor came, checked him, and pronounced him dead. Then the barista called us. We came in and sent the body to be analyzed. The postmortem report arrived an hour ago.”

There was a pause, as I didn’t react, and then she continued.

“It suggests that there was an immense influx of hormones due to a nerve impulse gone wrong. Usually, a person’s nerve impulse is what causes them to react. This impulse was reversed by some external force which then caused the hormones to go haywire. This sudden hormonal imbalance caused his death. We have deduced that the external force that caused this might have been an untraceable poison.”

I was stunned into shock at the mention of the murder victim and by the overload of information. “Linu Veshak,” I whispered, tears brimming in my eyes already. Bansuri’s gaze did not falter. She still looked at me like I was the murderer.

“But, madam, what suggests to you that I am the prime suspect?” I finally mustered some courage to speak.

“The CCTV footage. Ten minutes before his death, you had touched him.”

“Touched him? How’s that possible?”

“Look at this.” Bansuri played a high-quality video of the footage. And then it dawned upon me.

“This is ridiculous! I placed my hand on him to balance myself. I didn’t want to bump into the teens who were walking toward me, chattering like buffoons. How can touching a person cause hormonal imbalance and all?”

“Well, we are probing into it. You might have used a tiny injection to inject that untraceable poison. Or you might have rubbed some powder that would have permeated through his shirt and skin to mix in his blood. We’ll find it out soon. Till then, you are our prime suspect. But wait, there’s more. You have a past with Linu. Am I right?”

I turned white as she said that. I wished my uneasiness would not be too evident, but I couldn’t gather myself.

Wiping a ray of sweat atop my lip, I replied, “Yes, we were lovers. Two years ago, we met at a Mandala workshop in Katpadi. We were together for seven months before we broke up.”

“And why did you break up?” Bansuri’s face was still taut.

“Incompatibility, gaslighting, etc.”

“Oh, I see. Well, weren’t you in contact with him after that?”

“No, we weren’t. You can investigate my personal chats if you want. Anyway, that’s easy for you police people, right? I swear I didn’t know that Linu was in Chandram. I never kept track of his life on social media too.”

Bansuri signalled for me to stop.

“We have analyzed all his chats. Nothing points at you, though. But you have a strong motive to kill him. His past connection with you. Maybe, you were put off by his behaviour and you wanted to avenge him?”

“If I had wanted to avenge him, I would’ve done it long ago. I wouldn’t wait for two years.”

I stared at her, annoyed by the absurdity of her accusation. She spoke after a measured silence.

“Hmmm, that’s right. Okay, you may go now, Tapasya. Till we get back to you with more information, you aren’t supposed to leave this town. Since we don’t have any substantial evidence against you, we have to let you go now.”

“Thank you, madam.” I stood up, relieved that it was over. But something nagged at me and I couldn’t stop myself from asking.

“Uh, Bansuri madam, how did you categorize this case as a murder? It can be a natural death, right?”

“No, it’s a murder. That much a postmortem can reveal.”

“Okay, madam. I hope you nab the killer soon. Whatever be it, I had once loved him. And I don’t want his death to go unsolved.”

“Sure, we will try our best.”

I left the café, while Bansuri asked the crowd to disperse.

*****

“Linu Veshak’s murder case has been closed as a natural death. Another unsolved murder. There was no evidence against the suspect too.”

“Yeah, but it might have been a natural death too. Anything can happen these days. Sudden heart attack. Or as in Linu’s case, hormonal imbalance.’

I overheard two women speaking in the glossy washroom. I stood before the mirror. Looking back at me was a woman with velvety-black curls, full lips dabbed in flaming fuchsia lipstick, hazel-brown eyes lined thickly with kohl and crescent-shaped eyebrows. A sneer hugged the corners of my lips as I remembered my conversation with Magizhvendhan, one year ago.

‘You’re one of the descendants of the Nine Unknowns. To be precise, you are the descendant of the second Unknown. You will not know who your predecessor was. I am just the messenger who has been directed to entrust the material to you. Have you ever fought with someone physically?’

‘Yes, I have. During my childhood. I have delivered some deadly punches and blows. The teachers complained to my parents. And then I stopped reacting physically to anything.’

‘That is because you are one of them. This is the book that you must safeguard. Physiology. It will teach you everything regarding the special power that you will get to harness. And, here’s a specially designed laptop that contains video material and research papers. Also, you have to log in to a special website where you must enter the details if you have used your power for your gain.’

My life changed after that. I was initiated into that secret society. I could do anything with that esoteric knowledge, but I was prohibited from using it unnecessarily. I could use the power only if I had been betrayed or if I was close to danger. The knowledge and power I gained could have been used to perfection if I had been a professional assassin. But I was just a normal human being leading a normal life.

I had thought that I did not deserve to be a descendant until Linu came to Chandram. When I noticed him at the railway station, I began tracking his every movement. Poor fellow! Even the CCTV footage couldn’t capture my lips uttering a mantra before the energy seeped through my fingers and reached my fingertips. And then all I had to do was just place my hand on his back.

Why Kaapiopsy? It was the only place where I could accidentally touch him. A killing touch, as I called it.

What better way to avenge than murdering a man who had physically abused me and cheated on me?

~THE END~

Footnote: It is believed that Emperor Ashoka had created a secret society of nine men (I would’ve been happy if it was mentioned as ‘nine persons’ in general). They were called the Nine Unknowns who were entrusted with highly confidential scientific knowledge. Ashoka feared that if the knowledge fell into the wrong hands, it would lead to destruction. The nine men wrote nine books. Among them, Physiology was the second book. It explained how to kill a person simply by touching him or her, known as “The Touch of Death”, simply by the reversal of a nerve impulse. I weaved this murder story around this concept. You can read more information about the Nine Unknown here:  https://prateek5821.medium.com/9-unknown-men-the-mysterious-secret-society-of-ancient-india-c5688f2aea7c

Man Booker Prize – Drama Short Story

I wrote this short story in 2015. It was selected as the Editor’s Choice and won the Story of the Month award in YourStoryClub. (if you find that link anywhere, god forbid, please don’t read that version).

“Can you compose your own story for the ‘Creativity Galore’ contest?” asked Lithiksha to Shakthi, during the lunch break in Seventh Day Adventist School.

“I hope I can. I have to work on it. You know, it takes time to compose a story,” replied the 14-year-old Shakthi.

“Well, but I can’t see the creativity in you. You aren’t a good writer yet. I have read some of your stories, which you wrote last year. They didn’t make any sense to me.”

Lithiksha’s harsh words sent poison darts to Shakthi’s heart. She was offended. The stories which she wrote gained a school-wide appreciation, but her so-called new best friend was taunting her. Yet, she put up a brave face and replied, “You could have told me last year. I’d have improved my writing skills.”

‘Well, I didn’t want you to become a great writer. I will never allow you to excel in writing,’ Lithiksha thought. She said aloud, “You weren’t close to me last year. Krithika was your best friend. Unfortunately, due to her transfer, you chose to be with me.”

Though Shakthi could see through Lithiksha’s pride, she did not respond. Staying calm during haters’ speech was something that she had learned during her writing. ‘My day will come,’ she thought.

*****

“And the first prize goes to Lithiksha for her story Dancing in the Rain,” announced the principal. Lithiksha’s walnut skin gleamed with happiness as she went to the podium to receive her prize and join the other winners Mridul and Harini. While receiving the certificate, her eyes searched for Shakthi to flash a wicked smile, but she could not find her in the auditorium. Puzzled, Lithiksha alighted from the podium and searched through the crowd of smiling faces for the girl who could not win the prize. At last, she found her standing along with the Chemistry teacher, Ms Alisha. Plopping down on a nearby chair, she began overhearing the conversation between the two.

“I really loved your story – Saudade. It was deep, heart-warming, and sentimental. It left me with a sense of happiness long after finishing it,” said Ms Alisha, while patting Shakthi on the shoulder. A surge of jealousy passed through Lithiksha’s heart. Though she had won the first prize in the competition, not a single soul had given her feedback about her story.

“I was in an enchanted mood while penning the story, ma’am. That made me write perfectly. However, it didn’t go down well with the jury,” Shakthi sounded hurt.

“That’s okay, Shakthi. You needn’t worry about it. A good story must win hearts, not prizes. Your story has done that. I hope you’ll receive many personal appreciations … like mine.”

“Thank you so much, ma’am. This means a lot to me,” replied Shakthi with a warm smile. After shaking hands with her, Ms Alisha left her alone. Lithiksha could see the twinkle in Shakthi’s eyes. ‘I must destroy her happiness.’ She moved towards Shakthi.

“Hi, Shakthi, I am so happy. I never thought that my story would win the first prize.”

“Congratulations, Lithiksha! I am happy for you. I liked your story. It was simple yet elegant in terms of the plot.”

“Yeah, your story was good, too, but I thought that it wasn’t good enough to win a prize. It lacked depth. I could feel that something was missing. I just cannot describe it.”

“Really? Well, I am happy that my story has touched a few hearts. I don’t need a prize. Appreciation is what I love.”

Lithiksha’s face twitched. ‘Ha! This girl isn’t budging. Let me try some other comment to destroy her happiness.’

“Well, but my story had touched the jury’s heart. That’s what a good story should do. To make everyone, not just a few, feel along with the character. Are you planning to become an author, Shakthi?”

“Yes, I am. It has been my dream since my childhood.”

“Then you have to hone your writing skills a lot. Read more books, improve your writing style, and get your grammar correct. Okay?”

Calm and composedly, Shakthi replied, “Okay, sure, I will. By the way, what are you planning to become?”

“I am planning to get into a government job as that will be life-settling and also I can earn enough money to run a family. I cannot imagine my life as an author as that wouldn’t suffice to lead a productive life. Writing will never satisfy my financial needs. It’s just a hobby for me.”

“Oh, no! Please don’t demean writing. It’s my passion, not a mere hobby. There is a difference between hobby and passion. Many wouldn’t understand that. So, I cannot stand it if someone thinks cheaply about writing. Especially, it shouldn’t come from a girl who has just won a prize for her work. Good luck with your government job!” exclaimed Shakthi with genuine concern.

“Thank you, good luck to you, too!” Lithiksha said sarcastically. She ignored the ‘writing’ advice from Shakthi. Pride swallowed her a long time ago. Hence, she would not pay any heed to a girl whom she thought inferior to her.

Days passed. Lithiksha and Shakthi completed their 10th grade and parted ways for their 11th grade. It was a refreshing change for Shakthi who was continuously subjected to Lithiksha’s goading remarks.

*****

“A little tea will refresh you and make you study well, dear,” said Lithiksha’s mom as she placed a cup of steaming tea on her study table.

“Thank you, Ma,” replied Lithiksha and closed her bank exams preparation book.
After gulping down the tea, she grabbed her book with renewed energy and flipped the pages. She reached the General Awareness section and began studying it. As she reached the 11th question, her eyes froze. She did not expect such a question to pop in front of her, never in her life.

11. Who is the author of the Man Booker Prize winner ‘A Mermaid’s Lullaby’?
a. Gowri Madhuri
b. Shakthi Vyas
c. Janani Shree
d. Maya Samar

Lithiksha immediately browsed for the book and its author. The search results threw up pictures of the girl who was her best friend then, the girl whom she had loathed, the girl whom she had prevented from becoming a good writer.

She was a published author, a world-renowned one at that. She was also the highest-paid author in India. As she kept staring at the name ‘Shakthi Vyas’, a flood of memories submerged her. A feeling of regret passed through her. She could not believe her eyes. The girl whom she had ridiculed, derided, and mocked was a world-renowned and fan-friendly author and she had been ignorant of that fact.

In the next instant, she connected to Facebook and searched for ‘Shakthi Vyas’. Sure enough, there was an official page for Shakthi Vyas with a blue tick mark beside her name. The page had received more than one million likes. Shakthi had written not one, but five books on the whole, and all were bestsellers. All were critically acclaimed and had such rich literary value.

Lithiksha’s eyes popped out. After 12th grade, she quit writing, reading books, and also visiting bookshops. Hence she was oblivious to such an author. She frantically reached for the Message option and typed out a message.

Lithiksha Parvi: Hi, Shakthi, do you remember me? I was your best friend in 10th grade. I am very happy to know that you are a Booker Prize winner and a famous author. Hope you remember me, though it has been seven years since we lost touch.

She impatiently waited for Shakthi’s reply. She wanted to mend her ways by genuinely befriending her.

*****

Shakthi Vyas was sitting beside her bedroom window, enjoying the cool sea breeze. She visited her Facebook page for a status update about the weather. It was then that her messenger popped with a message. It was from a girl named Lithiksha Parvi. That name rang a bell in her mind. Curious, she opened the message.

After reading it, she typed a reply.

Shakthi Vyas: Who is this? I don’t remember having such a ‘friend’. Sorry!

After all, Lithiksha was the driving factor of Shakthi’s life. Jealous, but still a catalyst for her. If it had not been for Lithiksha, Shakthi would never have become an author. Her rude remarks echoed in her disturbed mind while she had penned her bestsellers. She wanted to get back at her then-fake best friend. She did it.

Now, the same Lithiksha was trying to befriend her again. ‘Well, success brings people closer. Who doesn’t want to be the friend of a famous author? But I will never let her spoil my life again. Toxic girl! My reply will teach her a lesson,’ Shakthi thought.

Even eight months after seeing the reply message, Lithiksha did not respond to it! She could only dwell in regret and embarrassment. Shakthi indeed gave a fitting finale to an abrupt tale.

Not Letting Go of This Netflix Series

From left to right – Jared Vasquez, Drea Mikami, Michaela Stone, Olive Stone, Eden Stone, Ben Stone, Cal Stone, Saanvi Bahl, TJ Morrison, and Robert Vance

It all started with a friend tweeting about how she didn’t want to continue watching the Manifest series because it was just going on and on and nothing was making sense in it. She said she regretted watching it. And that intrigued me to watch this series. I already knew it was about a plane that takes off in a year and lands in a different year. The time travel angle hooked me on to it as I’m obsessed with all things time travel. So, I started watching this in September 2022. But my regret was different – I regretted not watching it in 2018 when the first season premiered. I got so much addicted to the racy plot that I wanted to keep watching it.

Not everything should make sense in this world. There are so many mysteries out there that are twisted and unsolved. When we don’t get the answers we need in life, we’d surely want the movies we watch to have the answers to the questionable plot they have. We wouldn’t want to invest our time in something that drags on with layers and layers of mysteries, spiralling into story arcs that don’t contribute to the main plot. Manifest does fall into that category. And I can understand why many stop watching it midway. Most of their responses are like – ‘I don’t understand anything. There’s no sense of direction in it’ and ‘It’s irritating me with all that callings thing’.

Okay, though I was hooked on to the plot at first, it was the intense characterization that kept me glued to the series. I’m an emotional person and feel everything deeply, sometimes bordering on being an empath. So, I invested myself in the characters – Michaela, Ben, Jared, Saanvi, Cal, Grace, Olive, Zeke, Vance, Angelina, Eagan, Adrian, TJ, Drea, and so on. I journeyed along with them. The huge chunk of episodes paved the way for developing the characters well and adding emotional depth to the story. The characters shaped the plot as I watched episode after episode. I almost binge-watched the first three seasons before they dropped part 1 of Season 4 on November 4th, 2022 (yes, it coincides with the date the plane landed – November 4th, 2018).

Many would have felt that the story, all that mythology, the talk about divine consciousness, Omega Sapphire, Noah’s Ark, spirituality, etc., were too much to take in. But I’m someone who loves puzzles, enigmas, and twisted plots. And this series had them all in tons. Apart from the main cast, there were so many other characters who had a lasting impact on me. Since the callings of Michaela and Ben have always been about other passengers and helping them out, it was heartwarming to watch when all things worked for good. The series was also highly anecdotal, what with so many emotional scenes and quotable dialogues.

The final part of the series dropped on June 2nd (another important date in the series). I finished watching it yesterday evening and I almost choked with tears when it ended. To surmise, the climax was so perfect that I’m not even able to imagine an alternate ending which would have given that perfect feel. It had a beautiful completion to all that chaos. Though so many expected things weren’t the endgame, it all fitted well. And, since yesterday, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about all the possible arcs and revelations that the series had to offer. I have been tweeting about some of them (there are spoilers in it!).

These possible arcs are making me want to write my own fanfiction based on them. Though I have lots of ideas for writing a sequel or a spinoff for this series, I wouldn’t be doing it anytime soon. It’d require multiple rewatches to get into the skin of the story and then start writing. No other series has made me feel so emotionally glimmered (the opposite of triggered) that I’m still following its hashtag on Twitter and reading other fans’ thoughts about the finale. Manifest overrode my love for DARK. That must be the biggest win of this bittersweet series.

I would definitely NOT recommend this series to everyone. It’s not an easy watch. You need loads of patience and a thirst for such slow-burn intriguing dramas. I love getting tangled up in the lives of fictional people, especially if they are well-written characters. And I don’t regret even a moment of watching it.

Love,
Kavya Janani. U

It’s Time To Take a Social Media Break

How do you know when it’s time to unplug? What do you do to make it happen?

It happened all of a sudden. And it was the day before yesterday. Before plugging my mobile phone charger into the socket on the wall, I had this urge to deactivate my social media accounts and even uninstall WhatsApp (I do wish there was a way to log out of this app). The constant need to be available on WhatsApp for work purposes seems to be daunting. But I didn’t uninstall it. I have already disabled the notifications. So, I go inside WhatsApp only when I want to and not by being pulled by the app’s notifications. Back in 2015, I wrote a post about how I went without WhatsApp for two weeks. Though the post is kinda silly to read now, many teenagers who’d want to unplug would find solace in it, hehe.

Okay, back to the topic of unplugging. I deactivated my Instagram and Facebook accounts (though I don’t use the latter much, I still felt I should deactivate it). I had a kind of a low moment that night which made me rethink my priorities and how I am being productive. So, this is an experiment.

Is my social media usage deterring me from pursuing my passion in any way? Could I use that mindless scrolling time to do something useful? Could I quell the urge to go check my Insta account every hour? These are some of the questions I’d like to get answers for. I haven’t deactivated my Twitter account because out of all the social media accounts, Twitter is the best place for me to learn, create, grow, interact, and unwind. Twitter has never interfered with my creative process, unlike Instagram and Facebook. So, I am keeping it.

And what am I planning to do while I am away from social media and unplugging myself from the online world? Well, I am writing this blog post. I finished a 500-word short story yesterday morning for the Furious Fiction contest. I wrote a tribute kinda poem for a close colleague who’d be leaving soon. So, yes, I have been using my time wisely and I’m already loving this.

Just now I realized that I have to share one of the short stories from this blog on my Instagram Stories. But it seems I could do it after reactivating. No one is that desperate to read it. I wonder if people even read it. I have shared the link to my WhatsApp status. That should do for now.

I’m happy with this break and I hope to do a complete digital detox sometime in the future.

Love,
Kavya Janani. U

You’re My Mobilentine – A Quirky Romance Short Story

I wrote this short story in 2015 .  It was selected as the Editor’s Choice in YourStoryClub (if you find that link anywhere, god forbid, please don’t read that version).

Abinaya panicked as her expensive Samsung Galaxy Core Prime shattered to pieces. The mobile phone met its death with the seventh fall. She was speaking with her lover, Gautham, or rather fighting with him. Their relationship was on the verge of breaking up.

“Abi, how many times have I told you not to speak with Sriram?” roared Gautham over the phone.

“What’s wrong in speaking with him? He is just a friend of mine, nothing else.”

“I burn with jealousy each time I see you speaking with him.”

“Look! He is my friend and I will surely speak with him.”

“This is it, Abi! Let’s break up. I cannot give in to your tantrums. Nothing is working out between us. Get lost!”

“Hey, Gautham…” But Abinaya heard the phone click.

Immediately, she opened her Messenger and started typing a message furiously, “You’ll regret this, Gautham. You just can’t break up with me for this silly reason. You are too possessive and-”

As she was typing the message, the mobile phone slipped from its protective case and fell with a clattering noise. Abinaya watched in horror as parts of her mobile phone flew hither and thither.

She picked the parts and assembled them, but it was no longer recognizable.

‘Oh, my God! My mobile phone has killed itself!’ A single drop of tear escaped from her eye.

*****

A week ago…

“Hey, there will be a mobile phone raid today!” screamed Preethi as soon as she entered the final year B.E. Electronics Communication classroom.

“What?” Abinaya was horrified. She was the one who seldom brought her mobile phone to college, but that day was an exception.

“Where will I hide it now?” She asked Preethi in a frightened tone.

“Ummm…Shall we hand over our mobile phones in the Xerox shop?” asked Preethi.

“But we don’t have time to go there and also they won’t allow us to visit the Xerox shop now.” Shruthi put forward her views.

Abinaya began fidgeting with her fingers. Her mobile phone was precious to her. She cast a sad look at her lover Gautham who was seated in the boys’ row. He, too, had brought his mobile phone.

Just then, the Medical Electronics lecturer, Sheela, entered their classroom.

“Students! We have an inspection today. Our college authorities are conducting it. I think there will be a mobile phone raid, too. As final-year students, you will be bringing your phones. So, we have decided to collect your phones and keep them safely in our department’s locker for today. You can collect them in the evening.”

Though the students were reluctant to hand over their mobile phones, the caring tone of Sheela Ma’am allayed their fears. She collected the mobile phones in separate polythene bags and placed them in the department’s locker.

However, as fate could have it, there was no inspection that day. The bell rang at 4 PM and the students gathered in front of the staff room to collect their mobile phones.

From her cabin, the HOD of the ECE department flashed a harsh look at the students. Then she casually went back to her work instead of handing over the mobile phones. Stunned, the students began whispering among themselves.

“What the hell! I think the fate of our mobile phones is sealed today,” whispered Abinaya to Preethi.

“Yeah! HOD is burning with rage. I can say from that killer look in her eyes.”

“Ma’am, we need our mobile phones.” Shruthi, being the brave one, raised her voice above the whispers.

The HOD once again lifted her eyes from the papers that she was correcting.

“How casually you are asking! You have brought your mobile phones despite warnings. Now, how dare you ask me to return them? I will not return them today….”

“Ma’am!” The gathering chorused together.

“What ma’am? I won’t return them. You have an exam tomorrow, right? Go and study for it. I will return them after that.”

“Ma’am!” They yelled once again.

“Keep shouting! I won’t return them.” With those words, she zipped up her handbag and came out of her cabin. Shruthi blocked her way.

“Ma’am, we won’t bring our phones hereafter. Please return them. We would get sound scolding from our parents if we don’t have our mobile phones with us.”

“You should have thought about all these before bringing your phone to college. Understand? Go! Study well for the exam.” The HOD shooed them away.

The look on the students’ faces could never be forgotten. They returned to their homes, sadly.

*****

At 7 PM…

At a corner of the drawer in the HOD’s cabin, there lay a polythene bag, which held the mobile phones of Abinaya and Gautham. Hers is Samsung Galaxy Core Prime (SGCP) and his’ is iPhone 4S (I4s). The polythene bag was suffocating and the mobile phones were having a hard time breathing. SGCP turned to its right and found I4S struggling to squeeze between the other phones.

“Hey, you, come over here! There is some space beside me.” SGCP shouted to I4S.
I4S went past the other phones and settled beside SGCP. He flashed a warm smile at her.

“Hi, I am I4S. And you?”

“I am SGCP. Who is your owner?”

“Some geek called Gautham. He always uses me only to make calls to a mad girl named Abinaya.”

“Mad girl? Don’t call her like that! She is my owner.”

“Is it? So, our owners are lovers.”

“But they are bad. They keep on fighting for silly reasons. I have an app inside me which has recorded their sweet talks as well as their arguments.” SGCP made a proud statement as she spoke about the applications installed inside her.

“Awwww! That’s damn awesome! Though my App Store has apps for recording such calls, Gautham has never installed any of them.”

“Maybe Abinaya is hopelessly romantic. That’s why she records all the calls.”

I4S smiled to himself. Then he turned and looked at SGCP. She was peacefully breathing after an hour of suffocation.

“Why did the HOD do this to the students? Now she has trapped us, too,” said I4S in a forlorn tone.

“Yup! She won’t return us to them until tomorrow.” SGCP let out a long sigh.

Once again, I4S turned and looked at her. Something within him was changing. He could feel his energy intact. At other times, his energy would be draining at a rate faster than any other mobile phone.

“You look beautiful, SGCP! You are off-white and that suits you well.”

“Oh, my! Don’t try to flatter me. You know, I always stay inside a protective case, but I don’t know what happened to Abinaya today. She let me out of my cage. Maybe if I had been inside, I wouldn’t have been attractive to you.”

“I am not only attracted to your outer beauty. Your inner beauty speaks a lot. Your heart is a Quad-Core processor that is pure and kind. You support all your processes wonderfully. Your resolution and your other aesthetic features are also perfect.”

“That’s so sweet of you. Although one of the best phones in the world, you are appreciating my features!” SGCP’s heart filled with warmness. For the first time, she felt liberated. She enjoyed being with I4S which is touted to be one of the most expensive phones in the world.

“I am not as lucky as you. I don’t have a back button. Every time, Gautham has to press my home button hard. I cannot share my feelings with other phones like you, as I don’t have the option to connect with you all via Bluetooth. Whenever my owner wants to download songs, he curses me. I don’t have any such direct options. He has to connect me through iTunes on his PC or pay for his favourite song. I am so bad! Why didn’t my parents add such features when manufacturing me?”

“Hey, you don’t have to feel about all such things. You know, you have one of the best-operating systems in the world. Very secure and protected, not an open one like me. You should learn to love yourself, I4S. Then only you can perform better at the hands of your owner. Trust me. Soon, you will be completely liked by him.”

SGCP’s soothing words melted I4S’s heart. The polythene bag was not suffocating him anymore and he felt happy to be praised by his arch-nemesis in the mobile phone world.

“Unlike humans, we don’t have hands. Otherwise, I would have hugged you as a form of saying thanks,” said I4S.

“You don’t need to thank me. I have always admired you but other SGCPs have always envied you. Compared to them, I can be a better companion to you.”

I4S’s heart skipped a beat. He felt a powerful magnetic attraction to SGCP. Till then, he was jealous of Android phones. SGCP changed his notion about them. They were kind mobile phones and they could be best friends with all iOS devices.

Hours flew away as both of them shared their experiences from their birth till the present. They spoke about everything under the sun. They even found a few similarities in their sensor properties. Within the next hour, they became close friends. They were startled by the situation in which they were brought together. Unknown to them, something was brewing inside their hearts.

“SGCP, do you believe in love?” asked I4S, sensing the change that was happening to him.

“What is love? What do we machines know about love?”

“Love is something we can feel from our owners when they first buy us, but it is short-termed. They gradually start to hate us after a point in time and look for new gadgets.”

“That’s true! I have never experienced love. Abinaya didn’t want me. She just purchased me for the sake of having a Smartphone. I don’t feel loved. Neither have I fallen in love with my owner.”

“Then, together shall we learn what love is?”

“What do you mean, I4S?”

“Don’t tell me that you don’t understand. Haven’t you felt the butterflies in your stomach after these four hours?”

“I have, but I don’t know whether it is acceptable.”

“Why not?”

“Because we are different. We cannot fall in love with each other. Even if we get into a relationship, it would last only another fourteen hours. We will be separated by our owners.”

“But our owners are lovers. They will surely spend time with each other. At that time, we will continue our love story.”

“Even then we are different. You run on iOS and I on Android. It’s a complete mismatch.”

“What is this, SGCP? Only an hour ago you appreciated me and even found similarities with me. What if we are different? Don’t human beings fall in love despite religious differences? Why can’t we machines have the same privileges?”

SGCP was dumbstruck by his words. She decided to speak her heart out. She wanted to make the best use of the limited time they had.

“Why don’t you tell those three magical words then?” SGCP’s voice had turned passionate by then.

“Yeah, okay, I will tell….” I4S trailed off.

“Come on!” She was impatient to hear those words. That was her first love. She wanted it to be special.

“I will propose differently. YOU ARE MY MOBILENTINE.” Saying so, I4S giggled to himself.

“What’s that?”

“It’s something I researched from one of Gautham’s messages to Abinaya. He had said that she was his Valentine. I modified it a little.”

“Haha! That’s awesome I4S. I love you too.”

I4S’s heart resonated with SGCP’s confession. They looked at each other and saw a different kind of happiness in their eyes, something that told them that they had bridged the gap between iOS and Android.

“The only problem for us is that we cannot touch each other and feel our love. Yet our love is divine. I hope so. Do you?” asked I4S.

“I do, too. We have done something that nobody could have ever imagined. Now, they would stop fighting over iOS and Android.”

“No, you’re wrong. We cannot make our love story public. We are non-living things in the eyes of our owners. They will never know our beautiful love story ours. This is our fate and we have to accept it. We are machines.”

SGCP was getting even more attracted to I4S with his pragmatism. She decided that she could never live without him. However, the harsh reality was only thirteen hours away.

After a few mushy talks and exchange of sweet-nothings, they realized that their energies had started draining. They planned to lull themselves to sleep. They had the best rest that night. Serenity filled their minds, which they had never experienced while resting in their owners’ homes.

*****

After eight hours, SGCP and I4S woke up to strange sounds. The polythene bag in which they were placed was pushed a little. The HOD had entered her cabin and was searching for a book in the drawer.

“Where is my book?” She spoke to herself. SGCP and I4S were relieved as they heard the drawer door shut.

“Good morning, sweetheart!” wished I4S.

“Good morning, darling!” SGCP wished back.

“Only five more hours for our love story to end.”

“Don’t remind me about that. If I had tear glands, I would have cried the entire night.”

“What do we do? I don’t want our love story to end like this.”

“Hey, I have an idea. Can we kill ourselves?”

“What are you saying?”

“At least we can be happy that we loved each other till our death. Being separated by death is far better than being separated by our owners.”

I4S smiled and winked at her in response to her idea.

*****

A week later…

Gautham updated his Facebook status, “My iPhone 4s fell to its death from the corner of my bed (sic). So did my girlfriend’s mobile. Now we have sworn never to fight with each other. Maybe the death of our mobile phones made us realize our love for each other. :-)”

This Is My Having It All

What does “having it all” mean to you? Is it attainable?

The phrase having it all might mean different things to different people. To me, having it all means having my loving family and my close circle of friends around me, maintaining joy and peace, taking care of my mental health, enjoying all my days to the fullest, utilising my talents to what I term as my best, living an unconventional life, taking time off to just rest and rejuvenate, and just keep growing in my own pace.

I have never been allured by the capitalist trap or the hustle culture. The only time I hustle is when I am running late for work. All around me, people are achieving milestones like time is running out and they move like saddled horses, chasing one thing after another. While that is their definition of having it all (which is not at all wrong), it definitely doesn’t suit me. My practice of hedonism lies in cherishing the simple things in life.

I have been asked questions like, ‘Why haven’t you bought a house yet?’, ‘Why don’t you have a car? It’s essential these days.’ and ‘Why aren’t you making it big if you are so talented?’ And some even tell me that I should strive to get a promotion and become an officer, not just limit myself to the clerical cadre. It’s like I should just go on up, up, and up till I snap, break, and fall. Oh, I’d still have the money to resuscitate me. I’d soon be up and going, and ready to hustle more to become the so-called perfect human being. But who would give myself back to me? Who would just tell me to stop and say that I have enough and that I need not become greedy for more?

Not one soul would be willing to look inside that part of me that carries my life’s true essence. Then, is it not cruelty to strip off the true me and become that someone society wishes to see? Of course, I love to have a house of my own. Of course, I love to own a car with which I could travel anywhere at any time. Of course, I’d love to make more money. But I am just not okay with rushing.

I like to take my own time in achieving my goals or the default milestones that I am supposed to reach. As of now, the definition of my having it all is what I have mentioned already. I place my mental health above everything else. I don’t want to miss out on my kid’s life by going on a capitalist path that focuses only on material growth. If I have to be a good mom, I should keep myself happy, peaceful, and healthy. That’s what matters.

Right now, my having it all is all about being grateful for what I have. I have a roof over my head, clean drinking water, comfortable clothes, a lovable family who support me and let me grow, close friends with who I can talk about anything, connect intellectually, and feel understood, a job to provide me with the income I need, a few talents that give me a purpose, little time on my hands to make use of those talents, the mindset to follow a yoga routine that suits me and takes care of my physical health, the music that shapes my life and defines all my days, and so many other niceties that I wouldn’t trade for any flashy things that the world has to offer.

The house, the car, the better prospects, and all other substantial things can wait. They aren’t my having it all, they probably would never be. And, yes, having it all is attainable. But first, define your having it all and then move towards it. Yours need not match with that of the majority.

And my having it all is just a mere dream for so many others in this world. So, yeah, I am grateful.

The Christmas Eve – Horror Short Story

I wrote this short story during Christmas 2014. It was then selected as Editor’s Choice in YourStoryClub (if you find that link anywhere, god forbid, please don’t read that version).

December 17th, 2014

“Wow! The concept is good. I would like to have the completed movie within a week. It’s short. So, probably it wouldn’t take much time,” said Pritham, the Chairman of the Short Film Association.

“Thank you, Pritham. I am starting the shoot tomorrow. The casting has been done,” said Tanmay, a 25-year-old aspiring film director, folding his completed manuscript and placing it inside his bag.

He walked out elated at the thought of winning the Short Celluloid competition. As he progressed, he chalked out the complete plan in his mind. Beginning with the settings and up to the final editing, he had it completely sketched in his mind. All he had to do was to jot down the film plan in his diary, which he maintained for movie ideas. He entered the parking lot, climbed on his bike, and rode away with a chill breeze sweeping across his face.

He stopped by the Crosswood Cemetery situated in the heart of Bangalore. Having bought a bunch of beautiful marigolds, he made his way through the graves to the one he often visited, within no time. He placed the bunch of flowers on the gravestone and knelt beside it. Tears flowed from his eyes. There were none in the graveyard except him.

Though it was only 5 PM, the cold air and the eeriness of the atmosphere made him cringe. He let his tears flow for a few more minutes and then spoke, “Thank you, my darling. This wouldn’t have happened without you. I love you…” He was speaking to the tomb of Anushkriti, his girlfriend who had passed away two years before.

He stood up and went out of the graveyard as fast as his legs could take him. Though he was a non-believer in ghosts, something about the place horrified him. Maybe it was Anushkriti’s memories or maybe it was the trauma, which he underwent when he witnessed her final journey to heaven. He raced for his home to catch some much-needed sleep.

Back in the graveyard, a muffled moan emanated from Anushkriti’s grave.

*****

December 24th, 2014
Christmas Eve

Tanmay crept inside the kitchen to drive away a black cat that had entered in his absence. The cat was peacefully sleeping on the kitchen’s windowsill. Sensing human movement, the cat stirred. The next moment, it turned and stared into Tanmay’s eyes with its green shining eyeballs. Tanmay screamed in horror and the black cat fled from the scene, jumping out of the window.

For a few moments, Tanmay could not comprehend what had happened. He wiped off the sweat beads from his forehead. He realized that he frightened a poor cat, instead of silently shooing it away. He could not believe that the fear of a black cat’s eyes had gripped him. Heaving a sigh of relief, he opened the fridge and took out the roasted chicken, which he had saved for Christmas Eve.

With the sumptuous dish in his hand, he dimmed the lights in the hall and plopped down on the cosy sofa. “Should I watch Insidious 1 or 2?” he spoke to himself. There were two DVDs on the tea table. He closed his eyes and slowly hovered over the DVDs with his index finger. Suddenly, the persistent ringing of the telephone pierced through the tranquil atmosphere of the house. Adrenalin gushed throughout his entire body. He opened his eyes and frantically gulped some saliva. His legs wobbled as he stood up to attend the call.

“Hel..hellooo..” he stammered.

“Tanmay beta, how are you?” the voice at the other end asked.

Tanmay heaved a sigh of relief. He wondered why his mom did not call his mobile phone.

“Ma, I am fine. I am glad that you called me. I was shivering with fear a few seconds ago.”

“Oh, my God! What happened, beta? Anything bothering you?” asked his mom, with her usual concern.

“Nothing, Ma. I just feel creepy living in this big house all alone. Even a small cat or a telephone ring terrifies me. I don’t know what happened to me. I used to be a brave guy. But…”

“Don’t worry about anything, dear. You will get accustomed to the house. It’s just been two months since you moved in. You will feel all right after a few days. Be friendly with your neighbours so that they might help you if you are in trouble.”

“Okay, Ma, I feel better talking to you,”

After saying so, Tanmay began playing with the end of the oval mirror that hung on the wall above the telephone. His eyes slowly moved over to the mirror to catch a glimpse of his face. But, he was shocked to see two reflections in the mirror! The second one was that of a girl, standing behind him.

“Aaaaaaa…” he screamed. The receiver slipped from his hands. He turned back and saw. There was none behind him! He searched the entire drawing room, but she was not there. He was sweating profusely. He opened the bathroom to check if anyone was present there. After double-checking all the rooms, he was sure that he was hallucinating. Closing the doors of all the rooms, he moved to the drawing room once again. He picked up the receiver and placed it back on the base.

He silently seated himself on the sofa. His mobile phone began ringing. He picked up in an instant, knowing that it was his mother.

“Hello, Tanmay beta, how are you?” His mother’s cheerful voice boomed over the phone.

“Ma! You called me just now, right? To the landline?” He asked, his eyebrows furrowing automatically.

“No, beta, I did not call. I don’t even know your landline number.”

Tanmay felt paralyzed for a moment. He realized that something was wrong and abruptly cut the call. He looked around the wretched house. There was no sound except the ticking of the clock. The serene mood of the house was disturbing him. He remembered the gala days he had spent with his family back in Jaipur.

Slowly, he reached for the water bottle. He sipped some water to wet his dry throat. The next moment, the water turned red. It was blood.

“Yuck!” Tanmay spat the water and threw the bottle away. His eyes widened as he saw the rolling bottle on the floor.

“This can’t happen,” he said to himself. There was only water spilt on the floor, no blood.

“I saw blood a moment before. How can this happen? I can’t hallucinate this much. I have not been affected by anything…” But there was no one to comfort him. He was his own partner. He looked out of the window to call any neighbour to strike up a conversation so that he might not feel lonely, but there was nobody. Everybody was probably celebrating Christmas with their families inside their homes. He could only see a beautifully decorated Christmas tree and a shining pink star dangling in the house opposite his.

Exactly after ten minutes, everything was back to normal, or Tanmay presumed so. He was gobbling up the roasted chicken in small pieces, savouring every bit of it. He then chose Insidious 1 and inserted the DVD inside the player. The movie began with its title and the characters’ names. The B/W eerie images, which were displayed along with the names, sent a chill down his spine.

“I should not be watching this now. First, it was the cat, then the telephone, the girl-like reflection, my mom saying that she never called, and finally the water turning red. Something is wrong with me. And yet I have chosen to watch Insidious,” he spoke to himself. Though his mind cried out to switch off the TV and go to sleep, he never budged from his place. He fixed his eyes on the screen, for the movie was about to begin.

He clutched the handrest of the sofa as the sequences began to play on the screen. He shuddered and shivered when he saw a Hindi movie being played on the TV instead of Insidious. He stopped the player and ejected the DVD. He checked and it was indeed Insidious 1. He inserted the DVD into his laptop to check. It was perfect.

‘How come?’ he thought and once again inserted the DVD into the player. The title was ‘Insidious’ and the titles were being shown. And then, the marriage video of his parents began playing. Then the TV automatically turned off!

Tanmay was too stunned to move. He was sure that he had inserted Insidious 1 DVD. But what he had watched was beyond explanation. He became aware of the presence of a spirit inside the house.

“I am not hallucinating. There is a ghost in here.” He wondered how he could believe in ghosts. But whatever happened in the past hour was enough to make him believe in everything scary. He tried to stand up but his legs weren’t cooperating.

Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He was not able to turn his head around. The grip of the hand turned firm. He felt someone breathing near his neck. He could smell the fresh fragrance of cologne, which he had known for many years.

‘That’s Anushkriti’s perfume,’ he thought.

“Who are you? Come and stand before me!” he yelled at his tormentor. A shrill devilish laughter echoed throughout the house. Tanmay’s heart pounded with fear. His face expressed complete agony. Even then, he thought that the invisible intruder was a human being and not a ghost. The hands engulfed his neck and he choked. The intruder placed its chin on his head and let out a laugh. It then placed its hand below Tanmay’s chin and made him look up. And he saw Anushkriti. Her hair was dishevelled. Her teeth were stained red as if she was chewing on paan. Her eyes were watery and her cheeks had scars. She was deadly in appearance. Tanmay had a panic attack and his brain stopped responding. His eyes were transfixed on Anushkriti. He felt numb and her fingernails were burying deep into his neck. And then blood gushed out, soaking him completely. Anushkriti closed his eyes with her palm and let out a tiny squeal of joy.

“Ghosts do exist!” she chortled and vanished, leaving behind Tanmay’s lifeless body.

–

Then the screen in Room No. 7 of SFA Studio turned black. The words appeared in bold letters:

A film by Tanmay Sharma

The credits began to roll and the spectators were jolted back to reality.

“Wowwwww! Tanmay you nailed it, yaar!” Tanmay’s friends applauded and carried him as a mark of victory. Tanmay looked at Pritham who was still in some kind of trance after watching the movie. He came over and congratulated him.

“Well done, Tanmay! I haven’t been scared like this before. This movie gave me the jitters. The first half, which you played yesterday kept me guessing what would happen next. I even made out my scenes of how the character ‘Tanmay’ would realize the presence of ghosts, and the second half, beginning with the black cat, was just mind-blowing. You have brought out all the elements of a perfect short horror movie.”

“Thank you so much, Pritham. I am overwhelmed!” said Tanmay, with happiness dancing on his face.

“Well, casting yourself was a great idea. What about the girl in the movie?”

“Ha! That girl is a look-alike of Anushkriti, my deceased girlfriend. I had almost launched a hunt through the entire city for this doppelganger.”

Pritham’s expression changed to that of shock. He asked, “But don’t you think casting someone in a dead person’s identity would receive the wrath of the dead, that too, Anushkriti being your loved one?”

“Hahaha…is this some joke, Pritham? Do you also believe in ghosts? There is no such thing. Chill out, man!”  said Tanmay, patting Pritham’s back.

Pritham smiled uneasily and waved him goodbye, promising to showcase Tanmay’s Christmas Eve movie in the Short Celluloid competition.

*****

Tanmay swung his bag over his shoulder and started the bike. It was 10 PM. He was crooning a happy song to himself. He was glad that Anushkriti’s death had brought out something useful. That being Christmas Eve, he felt merrier than before. He thought about the roasted chicken that was waiting for him in the fridge. He reached his home rather quickly. Parking his bike in the garage, he walked towards the entrance. To his horror, he found the main door ajar. Immediately, he concluded that a burglar had broken into his house but there were no signs of breaking. The door was opened as if by using a key.

“Who is there? Come out! I am gonna call the police,” he yelled.

Suddenly he heard the sound of anklets, followed by a burst of shrill laughter. He looked around to call a neighbour for help, thinking that the thief was a girl, but no neighbour was in sight. The sound of anklets turned heavier and it reached the main door. As Tanmay fixed his eyes on the floor, he saw a pair of a girl’s legs appear at the entrance. He looked up and then froze. Standing there was a translucent version of Anushkriti. She spoke in a whispery voice,

“You played with the dead. Now is the time for the dead to play with you. Merry Christmas! Come inside. Let’s have some roasted chicken, darling…”

An unknown force pulled Tanmay inside and the door shut behind him.

The Zeroth Patient (A Time Damsel #1) – Time Travel Short Story

I wrote this short story in April 2020 as a part of a contest on Wattpad. It won the honourable mention in the contest. Now I have made some changes, upped the narration, and posted it here.

2049

Maya walked happily, her high heels click-clacking on the road, two shopping bags hanging from each hand. As she walked, she gazed at the roadside shops selling fancy accessories, handbags, casual wear, and back cases for smartphones. Though her shopping bug prodded her to buy some accessories, she ran late. She got several calls from her home. Mom. Sister. Dad. Uncle. Aunt. She patiently answered each call and assured them of her safety.

She stopped at a sugarcane juice shop and ordered a cup. Taking little sips, she revelled in its sweetness. Just as she was about to throw the disposable cup into the bin, someone patted her shoulder. She turned and came face to face with an old woman. The woman was dressed in a black sari; her mane was completely white. A substantial red bindi adorned her forehead. Thick black beads decorated her neck and wrists. It was evident that she was a fortune-teller, for she had a bejewelled stick in her right hand, and held a brown leather-bound diary in her left.

Maya did not like such people. She wasn’t superstitious, by nature inclined towards science and maths. Before she could speak, the woman spoke shrill, “You must be Maya Krishnamurthy.”

Maya let out a tiny gasp. “Excuse me?! But how do you know my name?”

“I know the names of everyone in this town,” the woman replied.

“How is that possible? Parilaya is a small town, but you cannot know the names of the thousand people here.”

“Parilaya is a small but unintelligent one. These thousand you speak about are the ones who migrated here in 2022 because this town perished due to people’s reckless nature. They never listened to what the world said. They thought that they were clever. They believed that eating bats would bring them good luck. But, what did it do? It created a pandemic that lasted a year and wiped out half of the world’s population-“

“Okay, I know about that: coronavirus and all. My mother was eight months pregnant when she migrated to Parilaya in 2022 after the pandemic ended and this town was completely disinfected. But what that has got to do with me now? I am running late. I have to go home. Here, take this hundred-rupee note. I don’t want your fortune-telling or hearing about my future or anything. I am not interested.”

Maya thrust the note at the woman, who declined it. She said, “You don’t want fortune-telling. But you’d want to hear something scientific since you’re a budding scientist.”

That stopped Maya in her tracks. She stared at the woman, wondering how much she knew about her.

Maya placed the shopping bags on the floor and folded her arms across her chest, nodding at the woman to go on. Her family could wait, but this could not.

“Here, take this diary. It is not as ordinary as you think.”

Maya was reluctant to take the diary. Not being superstitious did not mean that she shouldn’t be afraid of inexplicable things.

“Go on, take it. Only you can do this. You could save the world if you prevent the zeroth patient from spreading it. This diary allows you to travel back in time. This was given to me by a higher official, who said that Maya Krishnamurthy from Parilaya can travel back in time and save the world from the Coronavirus. When I asked him why he chose you particularly, he told me that you were born with a rare time-travel gene and only needed an object to activate it. So he prepared this diary for you. The instructions are on the first page. And yes, I tried, but I couldn’t travel back in time. If you succeed, please stop those stupid people from selling bats.”

“This is so ridiculous! How can I save the world? So, if I travel back in time and stop that single event from happening, the world should never have heard about the virus. But here we are, talking about it. So, my experiment was a failure. Somehow, the virus will come and wipe out half the population. I don’t want to experiment with this.” Maya withdrew her hand.

The old woman heaved a sigh. “Maya, I know you will say this. But I have another explanation. This diary was created just a few days back. So if you use it to travel back in time and save the world, it will create another timeline – where the world remains unaffected. You’ll leave the timeline which has experienced Coronavirus and create a new timeline that hasn’t experienced the virus. When you come back to your present, all the information about the virus would have vanished. Only you’d know about its existence. In that new timeline, I will not even recognize you. Understood? Please take it. You have to do this for the world.”

Though Maya wasn’t totally convinced, she proceeded to receive the diary from the fortune-teller. She just wanted to get away from her as soon as possible. She discerned that it was a prank and that she’d never use the diary at home. The sorceress flashed an eerie smile when Maya took the diary from her. At that moment, Maya’s mother called her phone.”Yes, Ma! Sorry, sorry. I will book a taxi and come in a few minutes.”

*****

Maya placed the diary on the desk and settled on a chair beside it. She turned the first page. Though she had decided she wouldn’t use it, something gnawed at the back of her mind and she went ahead in using it.

Handwritten letters stared back at her.

“Hello, Maya. Since you have been identified as having the time-travel gene, I have chosen you for this task. In the middle pages of this diary, you will find a sheet made with handwoven paper. Write ‘Nov 11th, 2019. Parilaya wet market’ on it. You will then be engulfed by a force that will take you back to that date and place. You cannot write any other date or place, as I have programmed this diary so that it takes you only to that date. Good luck!”

Snorting to herself, Maya did as instructed. A moment later, a force engulfed her. Her eyes bulged out of their sockets as her legs took off from the floor.

And then she vanished from her desk.

*****

Nov 11th, 2019

Maya’s feet touched the ground. A few raindrops fell on her face as she opened her eyes. She was at the edge of the Parilaya forest, near the wet market. It was drizzling, but a few people were still about. Fortunately, no one had seen her appear out of thin air. 

‘Is this Parilaya’s wet market? Have I  really travelled back in time?’ she thought, while she pinched her cheeks to convince herself that it wasn’t a dream.

She then walked briskly towards the market, clutching the diary in her hand. If the diary was truly a time portal, then she’d have to do what was instructed in it.

‘At least I’d be doing something good, like preventing the virus,’ she reassured herself.

She looked around and read the boards which displayed the types of meat sold in the corresponding shops. But she couldn’t see any mention of a ‘bat’. Intrigued, she approached the shop that sold mutton. A butcher was cutting up pieces for a customer.

“Excuse me. Do you know anyone who sells bat meat here?” she asked in a hushed tone.

The butcher looked up in disgust. He spat, “Bat meat? Are you out of your mind?”

“No. But listen… Someone is going to sell bat meat here. If they do that, we’re doomed. The world is doomed.”

“Hey, madwoman, what are you saying? Get out of here!” the man yelled.

“What’s going on here?” A woman came out of the storeroom at the other end of the shop.

“I’m looking for someone who sells bat meat in this market,’ Maya piped in before the butcher could speak.

“Oh, yes! Lalitha was telling me about it. She said that some astrologer told her that selling or eating bat meat will bring good luck. So she’s going to hunt for bats tonight.”

“What the hell?!” Maya swore. “Where is this Lalitha?”

“Over there.” The woman pointed to a store two shops away, which sold turkey meat.

“Thank you.” Maya broke into a run, reached the shop, and demanded to meet Lalitha immediately. A woman in her late 40s came out and looked at Maya rather mysteriously.

“Ms Lalitha, you don’t know me. But I should warn you about something disturbing. I know more than the astrologer. Please listen to me. Don’t sell bat meat. You are going to unleash something that will abolish this entire town, bringing about millions of deaths!”

“What are you saying, madam? Really? My husband and I were going to hunt bats tonight,’ she replied, not really wanting to believe Maya.

“Don’t do that, Lalitha. Please.” Maya begged.

“Hmph! But I thought I’d prosper selling bat meat. Anyway, it was a secret between the astrologer and a couple of families here, like the mutton sellers. If an outsider like you know about it, then you must be a sorceress and you’d be knowing more about my destiny. I will listen to you then.”

“Thank you, Lalitha. Does anyone know about your plan other than the mutton woman?”

“No one else knows. I was about to tell the other families after catching the bats.”

“Okay, don’t tell anybody, and don’t sell bat meat.”

“Sure, madam. I promise. You can rest in my guesthouse tonight and keep an eye on us, so we don’t go hunting.”

“Very well, okay. Thank you. I’ll stay tonight and leave tomorrow.”

‘Eff! Why did I offer to stay? What if they murder me?’ Maya panicked. But then she looked at the diary and felt reassured that nothing unfortunate would happen to her as long as she had the diary with her.

*****

Maya did a mental jig, having accomplished her mission. It was 9 PM and she was taking a walk on the forest road. It was dimly lit, but she used her phone’s flashlight. Crickets were chirping and a slight breeze was blowing. Maya shivered and hugged herself for warmth. Suddenly, she heard a strange sound, like a child rubbing his molars together. And the next second, without a warning, a bird flew at her. She ducked in time, but ended up with a nasty cut on her cheek; the bird’s claws had scraped her skin.

She returned to Lalitha’s house, where the woman tended to the wound. After a sumptuous dinner of chicken biryani, Lalitha and her family went to sleep, while Maya watched over them, simultaneously using her futuristic smartphone to play some games on it.

The next morning, Maya was ready to depart. She bid farewell to Lalitha and her husband. Then she went to a nearby temple to ponder upon the way to return to her present. She opened the diary to see if there were any instructions. Well, the words had magically appeared on the second page. She found a secluded place in the temple, followed the instructions, and gently drifted to 2049.

*****

2049

A sobbing filled the entire room. Maya was sitting on her bed, surrounded by newspapers with articles about Coronavirus. She was still in Parilaya. Coronavirus had won, even though she had found patient zero. The articles still pointed to Parilaya’s wet market as the origin, though Lalitha was not mentioned. She tried to go back once again, but the diary did not help. All the instructions had magically disappeared and it looked like a normal diary. Apparently, it was just for one-time use.

“I failed in a mission that I never wanted to undertake. And that still hurts.” She spoke to herself in the mirror, passing her fingers over the scar on her cheek.

She locked herself in her room, wanting to be left alone. For two days, she feasted on the biscuits and chips that she had stocked up. On the third day, something happened to her. She found it difficult to breathe. All her joints ached. Before she could even process what was happening to her, she collapsed on the floor.

*****

“How is it possible? How was she affected by the virus after three decades?” Maya’s mother asked the doctor, a week after Maya’s death.

“It’s so strange. Your family of seven has tested negative. We traced her contacts over the past two weeks. The sugarcane juice vendor, a fortune-teller who was seen speaking to her on the road, her friends… they all were tested and found negative. But the potency of the virus inside her was such that she couldn’t even experience gradual symptoms. It led straight to her death. It was like she had come in contact with the original virulent strain of the virus.”

Maya’s mother broke down. Her daughter’s death in 2049 due to Coronavirus would remain a mystery forever.

*****

“How could you do this? She was a poor girl. She would have been a gift to the scientific world if you hadn’t messed with her life,” the fortune-teller yelled.

“Some things are destined. We cannot change them. This pandemic had to happen. Earth had to heal. Maya had to start it.”

A wave of shock caught the woman. “What are you saying? Maya was patient zero?”

“Yes, she requested Lalitha to not sell bat meat, but she went on to become the zeroth patient. On the night of Nov 11, 2019, Maya was taking a walk on the forest road. An insane bat with this new virus clawed at her cheek. Then she came in contact with a lot of people that night and the next morning. She touched so many places with her bare hands and-“

“The rest is history,” the sad fortune-teller nodded.