The messenger

We shook hands. ‘It has been a long time,’ I said. It was a little weird. A decade ago, we had ate and drank together, cut classes together,  fought others together, proposed to the girls for each other… Now we were shaking hands. If we could forsee this scene 10 years back, we would have died of laughter.

In the restaurant, he breached on the subject. ‘She is in town,’ he said.

You fool. You thought he had come to see you for old times sake. You idiot.

‘She called me after so many years. She was crying,’ he continued. ‘It appears she has got into some problems with her husband.’

I stared through him. 

‘I need your help. I can’t involve directly. I need you to go and test the waters.’ 

Don’t you see? I don’t want any of this. 10 years back, your request would have made me happy like any other kid who has been asked to pass a love letter for his friend. Right now, I am only bothered about the mistake in tax return that my accountant made yesterday. Of course… I am also bothered about my potbelly. And also my receding hair line.

‘What do you exactly have in mind?,’ I asked. ‘Couples fight. They patch up. Don’t jump your guns here.’

Obviously he had already played out that one many times in his mind. He shook his head. ‘Don’t think so. And I thought it is a risk worth taking.’

For your information, I am the one taking the risk here you bastard.

‘You are going to get really embarrassed at the end of this.’ What I meant was, I am going to get really embarrassed at the end of this.

I will have to say yes I guess. Otherwise I am going to miss my ten o’clock tv show.

Photo by jurek d.

The way of the blade

He checked the bridge. No. Kalo was not there. Probably he has moved on to the metro stations.

It was his eighth day out of prison. He had made up his mind. He will have to go back to the blade. He didn’t want to. But he will have to. And he needed Kalo for that.

It is tough without an accomplice. Earlier he used to work with even three. One to create rush in the crowd near the station. One to distract the mark. And one to score and hand over the loot to the first one who would disappear at the station. The last step was crucial. A small detail which stood between many broken bones.

What does it change anyway; he thought. His mother didn’t even come out. His brother was standing on the portico, hands folded. ‘She don’t want to see you,’ he said. Not that it bothered him that much. She didn’t talk to him even before he went to jail. He was dead for her long time. He went hungry most of the days. He begged. To every one at sight. Even to other well to do beggars.

But what really bothered him was the crushes. Continue reading