Author : Medha Kapoor
Author Introduction: I would not call myself a
writer. Or a poet. What I am is, creatively inclined. My education has nothing
to do with it. It's just programmed in my genetic code. I love to read. Mostly
classics and poetry. I love music. Art. Cinema. Nature. I blog about my world at http://www.medhakapoor. blogspot.in
Story:
06:05 , 01/02/13
Samir
shivered in the early morning chill. It was barely five minutes past six and it
had taken him a humunguos effort to relinquish the warmth of his bed for a jog.
Not that he needed the exercise. Or wanted it. The neighbour's teen-aged
daughter had started getting insecure about her figure and he was more than
ready to lend a helping hand.
'Late again', he muttered as he fixed his hair using a parked car's side mirror. 'Sexy eyes', he crooned, looking into his reflection. 'Hmmm. Handsome face', he smiled, moving back a few paces. 'Strong should...what the hell!!', something in the reflection had sent shivers down his spine. He spun around to spot the source of the horror and gasped. There, behind the car, in the narrow lane between the buildings of the compound, hung, tangled in a mesh of wires, the body of a young girl, covered in blood.
Samir stood transfixed, unable to comprehend the scene before him. Who could've done this? It was one of the most peaceful, residential areas of the town. What should he do? Calling the cops meant dealing with questions and possible accusations. But why should he be scared? He looked at the face of the young girl. The eyes, still open, looked startled, as if she too was surprised to find herself in a position like this. Dangling from a set of wires at six in the morning. On a Sunday.
'Late again', he muttered as he fixed his hair using a parked car's side mirror. 'Sexy eyes', he crooned, looking into his reflection. 'Hmmm. Handsome face', he smiled, moving back a few paces. 'Strong should...what the hell!!', something in the reflection had sent shivers down his spine. He spun around to spot the source of the horror and gasped. There, behind the car, in the narrow lane between the buildings of the compound, hung, tangled in a mesh of wires, the body of a young girl, covered in blood.
Samir stood transfixed, unable to comprehend the scene before him. Who could've done this? It was one of the most peaceful, residential areas of the town. What should he do? Calling the cops meant dealing with questions and possible accusations. But why should he be scared? He looked at the face of the young girl. The eyes, still open, looked startled, as if she too was surprised to find herself in a position like this. Dangling from a set of wires at six in the morning. On a Sunday.
Samir
snapped out of his daze. He decided he shouldn't be seen in the company of a
dead body so early in the morning. He was just a regular jogger, trying to
score the neighbour's daughter. Satisfied with his decision, he turned on his
heel and jogged away. Had he waited a few minutes he would have earned himself
some interesting company.
The
door of the balcony of one of the flats on the seventh floor swung open and a
middle-aged man stepped out, looking bewildered. He cut a handsome figure of
masculinity except for the red ladies' gown that he was wearing. He stood
puzzled for a few minutes, trying to remember why he was so dressed. But a
trail of blood on the floor caught his attention. He followed it to the edge of
the railing, grabbed the handrail firmly, peeped down gingerly and felt the
ground beneath his feet give away. The earth trembled, the sky erupted with
bolts of lightning and the Sun spewed fire as Mr.Sibal let out a horrified, ear-splitting
scream.
Kaira
was having an unusually dull day at work. Two hours past lunch time and there
had not been a single disgruntled tourist complaining about the facilities at
the hotel, no absconding rich young lovers registering under false IDs or
nubile 'models' showing up for interviews. Even her co-workers at the Concierge
had kept their distance, only stealing short glances of her stocking-clad legs
every now and then. She let out a small sigh and checked her phone for
messages. A mischievous smile played across her well-glossed lips. Kicking off
her stilletoes, she reclined back in the soothing leather of her chair, shook
the loose strands of her curls out of her eyes, softly chuckling to herself as
she read the conversation she had had with her best friend, Ishita. She was
glad to be meeting her in the evening. Kaira and Ishita had been best friends
since school but had gotten out of touch once they joined college in different
parts of the country. But the weird-haired sisters of Fate conspired to land
them their first jobs in the same city and there they were, innocently obeying
the commands of destiny. The consulting company Ishita worked for was only
minutes away from Kaira's seven-star fancy hotel workplace.
The
buzzing of her cell phone was driving Ishita crazy. A friend of hers had
installed this instant messaging app on her chic smartphone and the pings just
won't stop. But as every other gizmo owner out there, she couldn't muster the
courage to expunge the perpetrator of her solace and be done with it, because,
well, the world would collapse if she did not update people with the events of
her day
'Ishita!
That report should've reached me fifteen minutes back!', the short, squawky
figure who was paid to boss around all the younger, smarter people was shouting
at her.
'Sir,
do you mind viewing it on my laptop instead? There seems to be some trouble
with the network connections', she said as she got up, cradling the laptop in
well-manicured hands. He considered telling her off for being such a
technologically challenged 'girl' but decided against it as he observed her
demure figure in colorful salwar-kameez walk towards her.
Ishita
knew she had gotten herself into a lot of trouble. She had accidentally let
spyware seep into her system while browsing certain websites. She was now
afraid for the sensitive data that was stored on her hard disk.
Once
back at her desk, she picked up her phone and dialed a number.
'Mr. Sibal! Hope I'm not disturbing you. Listen! I have a BIG problem. Okay...Umm...Can you come over in the evening?Thanks. Bye.'
'Mr. Sibal! Hope I'm not disturbing you. Listen! I have a BIG problem. Okay...Umm...Can you come over in the evening?Thanks. Bye.'
She
heaved a huge sigh of relief as she disconnected the call. Mr.Sibal was a
charming, dynamic and highly resourceful man she'd come across in the in the
cafe she frequented. He was around fifty, well groomed and well spoken. Theirs
was a peculiar friendship. It had all started with an aqua colored fizzy drink
that Mr. Sibal decided to try out in the cafe. On an impulse, she had called
out,'Don't have that! Tastes like mouthwash!'. She was seated alone on a table
adjacent to his. Their eyes met and they burst out laughing. 'Thank you! I
think I've had my share of that this morning!', he laughed. They had ended up
having a lot of aqua blue since then, just for the heck of it.
There
were fifteen texts from Kaira, all concerning their plans for the evening.
'Paranoid woman!', she thought and tested her informing about the newest
inclusion to their guest list. It was going to be another fun-filled Saturday
evening with two of her closest friends, she mused.
At
the corner of the street was a shady looking store, brightly lid from the
inside but very inconspicuous on the outside. It wasn't usually crowded, except
for the evenings and today, being a Saturday, there was a steady stream of
customers making trips to and from the store, some in cycles. As Kaira walked
to the store in her fitted black dress, several hands turned to stare, many
even got ready for the expected enquiry or request that could be the reason for
this beautiful lady's walk towards them. Instead, she maneuvered her way to the
counter and caught the attention of the vendor. 'One Smirnoff and one bottle of
Chivas Regal, please', she instructed to the vendor.
On the outside, Kaira was the perfect specimen of a seductive, confident female. Inside, Kaira was seething. Anger. Jealousy. Frustration. She could not stand another evening of Mr. Sibal trying to lure Ishita away from her. The world mistook him as a polished, sophisticated man whereas he was just another twisted man vying to siphon love and affection out of her beloved Ishita. Tonight, she was going too put an end to it all. The chemical she'd laced her nail paint with, when combined with alcohol would burn a hole in his vital organs, causing him to bleed out, but slowly. Slow enough for him to take his leave and walk to the car and drive it out on the road and...poof! Kaira smiled haughtily as she observed the sheen of the painted nails under a streetlight.
On the outside, Kaira was the perfect specimen of a seductive, confident female. Inside, Kaira was seething. Anger. Jealousy. Frustration. She could not stand another evening of Mr. Sibal trying to lure Ishita away from her. The world mistook him as a polished, sophisticated man whereas he was just another twisted man vying to siphon love and affection out of her beloved Ishita. Tonight, she was going too put an end to it all. The chemical she'd laced her nail paint with, when combined with alcohol would burn a hole in his vital organs, causing him to bleed out, but slowly. Slow enough for him to take his leave and walk to the car and drive it out on the road and...poof! Kaira smiled haughtily as she observed the sheen of the painted nails under a streetlight.
Laughter
emanated from the hall of Ishita's seventh floor apartment. Mr. Sibal had
arrived half an hour back and having solved her issue, was showing her funny
cat videos on Youtube.
Ishita
always had a great time with Mr. Sibal.
'You'll
stay for dinner, right?', she asked, looking into his warm, brown eyes.
'Well,
I'd love to. But I think the missus misses me', he winked back.
'Stay
na! Even Kaira is coming over!', insisted Ishita.
Mr.
Sibal's smile faded as soon as he heard her name. Kaira Kaira Kaira. Why was Ishita
so blind as to not see the truth about Kaira? They say that love is blind, but,
surely, Ishita could not be in love with Kaira, could she? Was she? Her too?
He
was busy contemplating this mystery with a constipated look on his face when
the doorbell rang and Ishita jumped to her feet and ran to get the door.
'Hi
Sweetie!'
'Hello!!'
And
so went the customary 'girlie' welcome with hugs and kisses.
Mr.
Sibal got up to shake hands with Kaira and they stood regarding each other for
a while, like opponents before a boxing bout as Ishita pranced away to the
kitchen to keep the bottles.
'Hey!
Ishita! Babe! Let's have a drink first!', Kaira called out to her.
'Whisky
or Vodka? What's your poison?', she purred to Mr. Sibal, proceeding to walk to
the kitchen.
'I
won't drink, thank you', he replied back softly.
'Poison,
you're poison running through my veins...Poison, I don't wanna break these chains...Poison...'-
blared on the music system as Ishita and Kaira danced, pretending to be
rockstars. The girls had drunk themselves silly over the course of one hour and
Mr. Sibal could not, in any circumstance, leave Ishita alone with Kaira. He was
sitting on an armchair, watching them enjoy themselves while sweat leaked
through every orifice of his body. The back pocket of his jeans vibrated with
the announcement of a call. His stomach did a double leap as he saw the name on
the screen.
'Shhhhhh!
Quiet! It's my wife!', he screamed.
'Hello!
Yes. Uhhh. I'm really sorry honey, I'm at Vikram's place, his father is
unwell...', heart hammering in his ribcage, he made a mental note to explain to
Vikram about his father's many maladies.
Kaira's
rage deepened as she saw him lie outright to his wife without a trace of guilt.
'Hahahahaha!
Look at you stutter! I wonder who wears he pants in your house! Hahaha!',
laughed Kaira, mocking eyes riveted to his.
Mr.
Sibal ignored her and instead turned his attention to Ishita who was on her way
to make another drink for herself.
'Good
god! Enough already, Ishita! How much will you drink?'
'Hah! Okay! Well! I will not drink any more if you wear that gown of mine and give us a dance! Come on! Haha!', Ishita grabbed his arm and started pulling him out of the armchair.
'Hah! Okay! Well! I will not drink any more if you wear that gown of mine and give us a dance! Come on! Haha!', Ishita grabbed his arm and started pulling him out of the armchair.
'What
nonsense! Ishita!', he exclaimed.
Kaira
sensed an opportunity here.
'Hey!
Come on! Let me fix YOU a drink instead!', she hurried over to the table to get
the business done.I
Ishita
had already pushed the gown over his neck and was proceeding to get his arms in.
Kaira
was cat-walking towards him, her eyes on fire, firmly gripping the glass in her
hand.
'Come
on, drink', she cooed, her arm extending the drink to his lips.
'Drink!',
chanted Ishita.
Mr. Sibal
gazed at the two pairs of eyes that were staring at him and then at the glass
that was being offered to him. But his hands refused to budge.
'Oh!
What the hell', exclaimed Ishita as she snatched the drink from Kaira's hand
and gulped it down in one go.
Kaira
screamed.
Ishita
was astonished.
Mr.
Sibal screamed as realization hit him.
Kaira
grabbed a vase from the table nearby and hit him with it. She didn't wait for
him to fall unconscious before turning her head to Ishita and forcing two
fingers down her throat.
'Puke
Ishita! Puke!', she shouted.
Gagging,
Ishita struggled to push Kaira away from her, struggled to comprehend what had
just occurred.
'Puke!'
Ishita
staggered to her feet. Kaira won't relinquish her hold.
'Puke!'
Ishita
moved backward, tears streaming down her cheeks. Tears streaming down Kaira's
cheeks.
'Puke!'
Ishita
looked into Kaira's desperate face. Things were starting to get very blurry.
This can't be just alcohol. She looked at the blood on Mr. Sibal's temple. What
was happening? She felt a warm liquid gurgle and churn inside her. They were
out in the balcony. She puked on the white marble floor. Red. Kaira was
howling. The moon was full and high in the sky. But the night was foggy.
Everything was blurred. Kaira was silent now. The wind was icy cold. Ishita's
head swam as her eyes drooped. Kaira put her arms around her and held her as
they leaned against the railing.
In
one swift move, Kaira lifted her and threw her off the balcony.
Gripping!
ReplyDeleteThat was too good ! Every element of a well written fiction has been spewed brilliantly throughout the tale . Admire your diligent effort :)
ReplyDeleteHi Medha
ReplyDeleteThe opening scene was splendid , the description was too good.
A good plot and the narration and language are quite good.
There are a couple of typos like 'tested' for 'texted' and well-'lid' instead of 'well-lit'
One thing a little puzzling in the story is why Mr.Sibal does not trust Kaira. He knows she is jealous and thinks she might harm Ishita ? The reason for Kaira. 'S hatred towards Sibal could have been elaborated a little more.
It was quite a tough exercise and you seemed to have handled it very well . But I did feel that the impact the first scene had somehow became a little lesser towards the end, I mean the narration. Otherwise quite a good read . Job well done.
Quite an interesting contemporary mix of characters and events put together. Story flows from one event to the other easily and the suspense is built up well regarding whose body that is up on the tree. The first part of the story and the callousness of Samir are described well. You feel the contempt for Samir building up. But that’s where Samir’s character ends abruptly. It would have been nice to have Samir in the story somehow. Nonetheless, this part is well done. I am a little put off and confused by this part ‘The eyes, still open, looked startled, as if she too was surprised to find herself in a position like this. Dangling from a set of wires at six in the morning. On a Sunday.’ One time I read it, it stands out well. But then, the next time I do, I think what does that mean? Would the girl have been less surprised if she had found herself dangling from a set of wires at night? Or on a weekday? I just think I am a bit confused about the intent / takeaway from that part.
ReplyDeleteSibal’s following the blood trail and discovery – again well done. I like the character sketch you have built of Kaira. Shows a confident, no-nonsense, won’t take shit kind of person but someone who also knows how to pull strings and take advantage of people. Suits the schemer character till the end. I probably don’t know the reference, but what’s this about the ‘weird-haired sisters of Fate?’ – Tarot? It’s particularly nice how you given little 2-3 line introductions to how any two of the three met.
The only thing I didn’t understand is why did Kaira throw Ishita off the balcony? Die an instant death and save her the pain kinds? The ending description on the balcony is brilliant. Very very vivid. On the whole, I like how you have built the whole murder mystery and outlined what happened without introducing any other major characters, and it was definitely a tough exercise. That last para was high on the goosebump scale. Humour’s overall a bit low but again, humour’s not really everyone’s strong point (or requirement).
Lots of mysteries built in the story. What would the writer have intended with all the sensitive data in his laptop? Which trail of blood caught Mr Sibal's attention? Who was Samir and where did he disappear? Why did Mr Sibal peep down gingerly? Would shivering Samir slinking out of the story in the beginning ever be able to go for his morning jog?
ReplyDeleteKaira's character was built well in the story... but did she leave the seventh floor flat after pushing Ishita over the balcony?
Loved the story despite all the questions that I have mentioned. I sometimes wonder why it should be so easy for writers to throw people off balconies or strangulate some or put a match and burn helpless victims... I mean, are murders really so easy to plan and execute? Can writers actually evolve into accomplished murderers? But then... forget these inane inquiries... let me just say that this story was pretty good and I loved reading it.
Just one question I'd love to get an answer for: Was Kaira impulsive?
if yes, this is a brilliant story.
Arvind Passey
www.passey.info