Skip to main content

The Killer

“You’re weak because you’re smaller than me!” My neighbour shrieked gleefully. He had been gloating ever since the wobble began. Irritating chap! 

Today he started in the morning itself!  Idiot! 

And yet, something wasn’t right.

But I was too happy to worry, totally fascinated by this city, bustling with people running, driving helter-skelter as if their life depended on it. 

I loved my home. Yes, despite the cacophony of needless honking, overcrowded, messy roads, hot weather (heard it was salubrious many years ago).

The conversations from the vehicles stuck in jams below made it worthwhile. 

Parents fighting with children about being late, not doing homework, not studying enough! Children arguing back about increased stress, peer pressure, and unreasonable expectations! 

Conversations about fabulous holidays, great achievements, pride in their work, love at first sight, eternal love, breakups! Stony silences! Sometimes, companionable.

Life at its fullest and conflicting best. 

I often wondered if life was so conflicting why don’t they put an end to it.

I found the answer in one conversation between an elderly man and a young one. 

“I hate life, Grandpa. Life’s messy! I want to run away.” The boy gripped the wheel tightly, his face grim. 

“Life will follow you everywhere, son. She doesn’t give up.” His grandpa’s voice was genial. 

“What if I killed myself?”

The old man’s voice trembled for a second. Then he said in a steely voice, “Beware, boy! Life’s not ours to take. Life’s ours to live.”

Those words struck a chord, a lesson I reminded myself every day. Today too. 

The swaying began a couple of weeks ago. One day, suddenly, I found myself leaning over so much I thought I’d topple over. 

Thankfully, I could steady myself quickly. But I felt it the next day, and the day after too. Irregularly but undoubtedly. 

The day before yesterday, the wobbly feeling came more than once a day, and yesterday, almost every hour! A few alarmed faces looked up at me. 

A few officials inspected me this morning. I recognized one of them. I’d only seen him in tracks and tees before. Today, he was in a suit. The shape of his bald head was unmistakable. 

He often met another man late at night when no one was around. The other man always carried a bag full of money. I knew this because the bald man opened the bag every time. 

This morning, he was brusque! “It looks fine. This iron pillar is designed to hold a running train, for God’s sake. It cannot topple over if its dimensions vary a little from the approved standard.” 

They stood mute under his stern, angry gaze. They nodded and went away.

I too lost myself in the milling life beneath me. 

“You’re wobbling again!” 

Drat! That pesky fellow!

“Mind your own …..aaahhhhhh!” 

I toppled over, falling on a scooter, the child and the mother riding pillion buried under my weight.

I broke the only human law that made sense! I took two lives. 

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

Comments

Post a Comment

My followers' favorites

The Birth of Ganesh

My new website is StoriesMadeSimple Nandi had done it again! Parvati was furious. Despite warning him repeatedly, Nandi had left her work half-done and had run off behind Shiva who called him to go and watch a wrestling match.  From her bath, she had heard her husband’s voice as he called out to Nandi who didn't even bother to check with her before leaving. He had mutely (and perhaps, happily too) followed Shiva. The worst thing was the feeling of desolation she experienced each time something like this happened. She felt alone and uncared for.  Parvati's orders and commands always took second place to those of Shiva in Kailash. Shiva's bidding was considered more prominent than hers. Then, why did Shiva carry on the pretence of being an ‘ardhanarishwara’ giving equal importance to man and woman? He preached, "There is no Shiva without Shakti," to everyone. Parvati had many names and one of them was Shakti.  But when she approached him to resolve the inequality me...
15 comments
Read more

Ekalavya - The Ideal Student

  My new website is StoriesMadeSimple Kamsavati begged her husband. “Don't kill our child. He has done nothing wrong.” Devashravas shouted back at his wife, hiding his guilt and grief behind an aggressive facade. “The soothsayers have proclaimed he will be a blot and danger to our society. As a responsible Yadava royal and the younger brother of the illustrious Vasudeva, I am duty-bound to keep my society safe.” Kamsavati couldn't hide her grief the way her husband did. “It was our desire that brought forth this child. If anyone has to be blamed, it is you and me.” “Stop this nonsense! What has to be done has to be done!” So saying, he snatched his newborn baby from his wailing wife and ordered the servants to restrain her to prevent her from following him. He came to the gate and saw the man waiting there. He glanced at his son, and the warmth of fatherly love seemed to melt his cold heart, just for an instant. He quickly gave the tightly wrapped baby to the man at the gate, “...
Post a Comment
Read more

Simple and Wise

  My new website is StoriesMadeSimple “C’mon, Archana, the purple salwar suit is lovely. We can decide on that, no?” Arathi chided her identical twin sister.  “You know I don’t like purple, Arathi! The gold sequined dress is better. We can both get the same thing and wear it together. That way, everyone will know we’re twins.” “As if our face is not enough for that!” Countered Aarthi, laughing at her sister’s idea who joined in the laughter. “What about that awesome bandhini design we saw in the other shop? You can take the purple one and I’ll take the red. That’ll be great, no?” “No! No! Bandhani is so out of fashion!” “How about a nice pair of jeans and a matching T-shirt?” “I don’t like jeans. You can take it for yourself.” The two sisters were in Chickpet, Bengaluru’s bustling market, looking for the perfect Diwali dress. The best part was they had their own money to spend. Last week, the owner of one of the bungalows where Amma worked as a cook called the girls over and g...
Post a Comment
Read more