Skip to main content

The Juggernaut

My new website is StoriesMadeSimple


The 18-wheeler cruised, the rubbers turning smoothly on the highway, her petite body belying the strength of her determination. 

It was three years since she saw the bloodied, molested body of her 13-year-old. She lost her husband to cancer. She lost her daughter to rape. She had nothing to live except for her day of judgment. 

Her eyes were focused on the careening motorbike ahead. His head turned, the bike failing to accelerate, to see death approaching him on a juggernaut. 

She had been following him since the day the young case inspector told her how his rich father had paid off everyone. He had told her there was nothing he could do, and walked away, ashamed of the tears of defeat. 

She approached the inspector a week later for help. He wanted to turn her down. But, with her persistence and his own anger at the skewed system, he agreed. He gave her a copy of the case file. 

She started learning about him, especially his routines. Most of the time he spent at the various bars in the city, drinking with his sycophantic friends and harassing girls. 

She only wanted one opportunity for herself. She found one soon. 

Every Friday, he went to meet his sick mother who lived in a farmhouse, 50 km away from the city. He rarely missed that! For an instant, the thought of his mother tugged at her heartstrings. The next instant, she remembered her daughter’s mutilated body. She was a mother too. 

An idea struck her!

The young inspector got her a truck driver’s job. The truck owner wanted to give her small trucks only. Slowly but surely, she rose from small to medium to large trucks, and finally to the 18-wheeled juggernaut, a key element in her plan. She did hundreds of trips carrying windmill wings. 

Today, a Friday, she took a little detour and followed him. She was close, very close! His terror-filled eyes drove her determination more than ever. Nobody was here to help him, just as nobody was there to help her daughter. 

She had planned for success. She had almost emptied his fuel tank when he had stopped at the regular dhaba for a bio break. 

Soon, he ran out of fuel. She caught up with him. 

Desperation and terror loomed large on his face as she closed in on him. The scrunch of the juggernaut’s wheels over his body and the squirts of red liquid finally calmed the ache in her heart, the ache she carried for three years! 

She looked back one last time, to see his body mangled beyond recognition, just like her daughter’s. The three years of tears now breached the dam. Her face and chest were wet! 

Suddenly, she saw a peacock feather in the sky! Was she hallucinating or was it Lord Jagannath giving His approval for the effective use of the juggernaut? 

This story was first published in Artoonsinn Writers Room - https://writers.artoonsinn.com/the-juggernaut/ 

Comments

Post a Comment

My followers' favorites

Nala Damayanti

My new website is StoriesMadeSimple Damayanti woke up to the warmth of the morning sun streaming through the forest foliage. Her beautiful, smooth skin was bruised with thorn pricks, insect bites, and wounds from walking long distances on the rough jungle paths. But she didn't wince even a bit because all that mattered was to be beside her beloved husband, Nala, who she loved more than herself. Damayanti wondered where he was right now, and thought he might have gone to get food or water. Feeling the nip in the air, she tried to bring her upper garment closer to herself and noticed it seemed short. It wasn’t enough to cover her fully, which was strange because it was large enough for her and Nala together last night.  Then she noticed it! The cloth was deliberately torn at one place and she had only half of the original. Now, she panicked. She shouted out her husband’s name. “Nala! Nala!” Receiving no answer except the echoes of her own voice in the stillness of the forest, and cha...
2 comments
Read more

Shabari - the Gifted Healer

Shramana sat on the floor under the tiny window of her room. She hugged her knees, her head was bent, her tear-ridden face hidden in the folds of her skirt. She could hear people discussing her marriage. "The only reason my son agreed to marry Shramana is that she is your daughter, Chief.” The voice reeking of boastful arrogance was that of her prospective father-in-law, an important member of the Shabari clan.  Despite being the chief, her father stood in subdued deference at the mocking tone because it was his burden to get his dark, average-looking, vegetarian daughter married in a manner befitting the royal of a hunter community. “Tell me what more you need to complete the wedding rituals, and I will happily do your bidding,” he almost grovelled. Shramana wanted to rush outside and rebuke her father for his behaviour. But she knew it would be futile because he wanted this badly. He wanted to transfer the burden of his daughter to someone else, and for this, he was more than wi...
2 comments
Read more

Samudra Manthan - The Churning of the Ocean

My new website is StoriesMadeSimple The Asuras were at the pinnacle of their power. The strong and powerful King Bali with his massive asura hordes had wrenched control of the cosmos from the devas. The power of the devas was at its lowest ebb, dented by their own arrogance and vanity.  The Asuras had driven out the devas from Indraloka and had captured, plundered, and looted many of their regions. They were becoming increasingly powerful, and as expected, conceited and vain too. It was time for the tide to turn.   King Bali and Indra, the King of the Devas were standing on the shores of the Ocean of Milk, or the Kshirasagara. “So, the nectar of immortality is hidden in the depths of this vast ocean?” queried Bali. “Yes,” replied Indra. “And the combined strength of the asuras and the devas is needed to bring it up. Neither of us can do this task alone.” “I get that. That’s why I also agreed to a temporary truce between us. But mind you, the nectar should be shared equall...
1 comment
Read more