#forsedemain

[This is the last part of the four-part Halloween special. Start from part 1!

P1 P2 P3]

There it was again. That stomach-churning feeling of guilt, embarrassment, humiliation and anger. Sometimes, she felt like taking him by the collar and shaking him until the creep bled out of him. She wanted to kill him. She will. She was waiting for the scene to end.

‘WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE?’ Tashi was screaming in the creep’s face. Mahek couldn’t see his expression herself, but she could feel the sneer on it.

By [camouflaged person standing against wall: SOMEBODY THAT I USED TO KNOW]

Noah was sprawled on his bean bag, playing Silent Hill 4. This is how I’m spending Halloween, he thought. I have truly become an old man. He’d have loved to go to that lame party Tashi wanted to take him to, but he had already fought with her over it. There was no way he was wearing that stupid rabbit costume.

His phone buzzed. He paused the game. It was his mother calling from Kanpur. Kanpore, as he pronounced it.

‘Momzilla,’

‘Hi. How are you?’

‘I’m good, ma.’

‘How’s Tashi?’

‘She’s good.’

‘What are you guys doing tonight?’

‘Nothing. We’re staying home.’

‘Don’t you have plans? It’s Halloween…’

‘We’re not in America, ma.’

‘Well, I hear music…’

‘Music?’

‘Yes, like party music.’

Noah listened hard. Yes, there was music coming from downstairs. That was weird. What was Tashi up to?

‘It’s coming from the street. It’s some Hindu thing today. Karva Chauth or something.’

‘Noah, there’s no music on Karva Cha--’

‘Okay gotta go ma I’ll talk to you tomorrow.’

Click.

It was undoubtedly party music -- something off the Billboard 100 charts, just the kind of stupid stuff Tashi would pick. Her stupid friends are probably over, thought Noah, slipping on a pair of jeans. They’ll probably be wearing skimpy outfits, he mused, buttoning his shirt. I’ll, like, be the only guy there, he brooded, tousling his hair with his fingers. Who’d want to be a part of that? he asked himself as he skipped out of his bedroom and made his way down the stairs.

***

Tashi’s name meant ‘good fortune’. Her parents gave her that name because they really meant it - she was their entire world. Tashi loved her name. Most of her namesakes were male, but she didn’t mind it. If anything, it made her feel even more special.

Back home, everyone kissed the ground Tashi walked on. She loved herself. She was on everyone’s lips even if she had nothing to do with them: ‘tashi delek’ was a standard greeting where she came from. Now whenever she uttered the phrase by mistake, someone or the other would chime in with ‘Exterminate! Exterminate!’

She was sure that Noah started that, actually. What a jerk. But she loved him.

Being royalty was fun and everything, but it got tiresome. Coming to India was like a breath of fresh air. Four years of boarding school in Rajasthan, and then she came packing to Bombay. She didn’t always call it that. When she first came here, it was Mumbai. Almost three years later, that name didn’t sit right on her tongue any longer - and Tashi was very particular about names.

Bombay had been exceptional to Tashi. It taught her a thing or two about how ‘real people’ lived. Back home, or even while at Rajasthan, the idea of smoking something that came from a grimy woman’s cleavage would have put Tashi off immediately. Bombay had made her far more tolerant.

Maybe that’s why I put up with Noah’s bullshit, she thought, staring morosely at her reflection in the mirror.

It was Halloween night. They were supposed to go to a party as Roger and Jessica Rabbit. Tashi had their costumes ready and everything. But there was just one tiny hitch in the plan -- she hadn’t consulted Noah about it at all.

It was not completely Tashi’s fault. It had been a couple of weeks since they had last had a proper conversation, and Noah usually went with what Tashi wanted anyway. Not this time. He threw a right old hissy fit.

‘You’re going to dress up like a hot piece of ass, and you want me to be a goofy piece of shit rabbit?’ said Noah. Tashi only smiled. At least he still thought she was a hot piece of ass, even when they hated each other’s guts.

‘You’re not even listening to me!’ Noah had cried like the sullen five-year-old he was in his heart. ‘I don’t know why we’re even doing this anymore!’

‘It’s convenient, that’s why,’ Tashi said quietly. Tashi and Noah each had their own rooms in a massive apartment. They had a spare room which they had both slept in, back when their relationship wasn’t so rocky. Plus they had a couple of extra rooms to spare. They had plenty of room to ignore each other. Convenient.

Suddenly, Tashi became aware of party music coming from the lower floor of their house. This wasn’t entirely unusual -- theirs was a party house. People often came over to make use of their immense lower floor. They didn’t mind -- Tashi and Noah usually sectioned off the upper floor so that they could have their space.

Noah had probably organised his own Halloween party. Without telling her, just as payback for the costumes. He probably had a no costume rule and was down there in nothing but a t-shirt and his dollar sign-spangled boxers. That boy, thought Tashi, pressing her fingers against her temples. Then, she had an idea.

Tashi raised her eyes and looked at the red gown and elbow-length gloves that were laid out on her bed. ‘Time to look like a hot piece of ass,’ she said to herself.

***

‘Woah’ said Noah, scoping the scene. The party was a lot bigger than he had expected. There were people milling about everywhere -- some really old people, too. Ew. Tashi’s annoying dyke friend was there with two of them. She tried to make conversation with him. He brushed her off.

He recognised many people in the crowd, including a close friend who knew where the spare key was hidden. That must be how they got in, thought Noah, because Tashi was nowhere in sight. She was probably out buying a sixteen-tier cake or something. My god, that girl really goes all out, he thought, grabbing a drink from the table. He was going to enjoy it alone, in his room, until some cool people decided to show up.

***

Tashi descended the stairs slowly, barricading them with a red rope behind her. She was immediately surrounded by people. ‘Great party!’ they said. ‘It’s not my party…’ she said. They talked over her. ‘Hey, someone ashed on your couch and burnt a hole in it,’ said someone else. Panic rose in Sophie’s throat. Noah, goddamnit, she thought.

Before she knew it, she was clearing plates, moving vases out of the way and pushing the furniture up against the wall. While she was on her way to the kitchen to throw a stack of used solo cups in the trash, she spotted Noah sitting on the counter, having an intense chat with Nasreen. He seemed so odd -- he would barely look at Tashi when they brushed past in each other in the morning, but here he was, with his eyes fixed on Nasreen, as if she was an angel from a Boticelli painting.

Tashi felt a burst of bitterness curdling in the pit of her stomach. It would have been okay if he were staring at Nasreen’s metal breasts -- she was used to that. But, no, his eyes were fixed on her face. All the pieces suddenly fell into place in Tashi’s mind.

Controlling her anger, she stalked off. Noah may have ruined her life, but she would not let him or his stupid guests destroy her home. She made her way upstairs to look for spare sheets to throw over the couches, when a broad chest obscured her vision, blocking her path.

She looked up and saw Harsh, her old boyfriend. They were together while she was at boarding school. He moved to Bombay to become an actor, and they remained friends. Noah liked him, too.

‘Harsh, hi!’ said Tashi. She went in for a hug, but stopped herself when she saw the hunger in his face. It was too late. Harsh pulled her into the hug with an unfamiliar intensity. His hands dug into her hips and he pushed himself onto her, nuzzling her neck. Tashi gasped. The only sex she had had in months was hate sex. She missed this.

Harsh pulled away slightly -- just enough so that he could look at her face (and down her dress). His hands were still on her hips, and he still had that mad look in his eyes. ‘You look fucking delectable,’ he said in his headiest voice.

‘Thanks,’ Tashi replied, still reeling.

‘I’ll see you around, Tash,’ he said with a wink, spinning on his heel.

Tash. He said it with the reverence of someone who meant ‘tashi delek’. Even with her push-up bra and her thigh-high slit, Tashi’s costume wasn’t the sexiest in the room by any means. But after the tryst with Harsh, she felt like the hottest girl in the house. The only thing Noah ever made her feel was frumpy and burdensome.

Fuck Noah.

***

Noah found himself on his bean bag with an empty glass of rum next to him. ‘I know what to do,’ was his first thought.

He knew what to do. He had played this game before. He needed to find a hole to take him out of his room. His door was locked -- he knew that. That was part of the game. He had to find the hole, or he would be in there forever. And then the game would end.

He went to the bathroom. Wasn’t the hole supposed to show up next to the toilet? There was no hole, though. He went out again. His room had a big sliding window. Maybe that was the hole. He opened up the window and climbed out.

Noah was on the sixteenth floor of his building. He wasn’t very afraid, though. ‘My energy bar is full,’ he thought. ‘There aren’t enough demons here to suck out my energy. I can’t die yet.’

He grabbed onto the pipe that ran beside the window with one hand. Then with the other. His legs were dangling in the air for a split second, but those soon grabbed the pipe, too.

Slowly, Noah began to shimmy down the pipe. After some time, he reached the window below. It opened into the kitchen. Thankfully, it was wide open. A girl in a metal bikini was smoking a cigarette. When she spotted him, her eyes grew wide.

‘Noah?’ she asked.

‘Get out of the way,’ said Noah, climbing sideways into the room with surprising dexterity.

‘What the fuck do you think you’re doing?’ the girl asked.

Noah was sweating profusely. He sat on the kitchen counter for a while, catching his breath. ‘It seems so easy when you play it, but being inside the game is tough as hell,’ he said, looking earnestly at metal bikini girl.

‘What?’ asked the girl, blinking stupidly.

‘You’re Cynthia, aren’t you?’ asked Noah.

‘Nasreen,’ said the girl, her face hardening. ‘You’ve forgotten?’

‘No, of course not, I’ve played the game before,’ said Noah. ‘This seems like a dream to you, doesn’t it?’

‘A very bad dream, yes,’ said Nasreen, lighting another cigarette.

‘Don’t worry,’ said Noah, placing a hand on her shoulder. He meant it as a reassuring gesture, but he also used it to support himself as he climbed off the counter.

‘Gotta go,’ he said, and he jogged out the kitchen.

***

Tashi was in high spirits. Her smile didn’t even falter when Sophie came tugging at her sleeve to ask about the lack of waiters and DJ. Sophie was a lot of fun, but she was one of those girls. You know, the kind that asked ‘Where are the servers? Where’s the DJ? What kinda party is this?’

Thankfully, with Sophie, it was easy enough to steer the conversation back to boys. Adam was sulking in a corner. ‘I’d do him,’ said Tashi, reflexively tossing her bottle-red hair. She was surprised by her own coquettishness - she often discussed boys with Sophie, but this evening, she couldn’t help but feel as if she had crossed a point. She needed to get it on.

‘Let’s Get It On’ by Marvin Gaye started to play in Tashi’s head. At the very next moment, it also started to play on the speakers. Tashi looked around with her eyes narrowed, looking for that elusive DJ. Was he playing a trick on her?

But instead of the DJ, she found herself staring straight at Harsh, who of course was staring right back at her. He was by the stairs, undoing the red rope. He redid it behind him and hurried up the stairs.

Tashi waited for about fifteen seconds.

Then she followed him.

***

Noah walked around the party, too distracted by the sweet cotton forming in his mouth to interact with anyone. He resembled Richard Ashcroft in the Bittersweet Symphony video -- bumping into people without a care in the world. He thought he resembled -- nay, was -- Henry Townshend from Silent Hill 4. One thing was for certain - Noah D'Arcy was no longer in the building.

Suddenly, he stopped. A wave of recognition swept over his features. ‘Harry!’ he said, clapping Adam's back, lurching him forwards. Adam furrowed his brow. ‘What are you talking about?’ he asked.

Noah's face clouded over just as suddenly as it had lit up. ‘Wait a second... You're not supposed to be here,’ he said.

‘Um,’ said Adam. ‘I received your invite…’

‘Harry's not in Silent Hill 4,’ Noah continued, as if he had heard nothing of what Adam had just said. Noah looked at Adam, his eyes filled with child-like concentration. They were dancing. Happy. A little crazy.

‘I’m not Harry,’ started Adam, ‘I'm A--…’

‘Jasper Gein, of course,’ said Noah. ‘I've played this game before. Hold up, I'm going to find your chocolate milk.’

Noah bumped around the room awkwardly, finally making his way to a side table that Tashi had pushed to a corner. He picked up a vase sitting on it and dumped the flowers on the floor. ‘Here’s your chocolate milk,’ he told Adam. ‘Give me my spade. Quick.’

Adam gave Noah a lamp stand. Noah didn’t know any better.

‘Be careful with that,’ Adam called.

But Noah was already gone.

***

‘Go first,’ said Tashi, hooking her bra up. Harsh nodded at her, his face still glowing with sweat. He pulled on his t-shirt and zipped up his pants. Then he grabbed her again.

‘See you soon,’ he mouthed against Tashi’s lips. She pushed him off and focused on slipping back into her dress.

She turned to the mirror to fix her hair and makeup, but when she looked at her reflection, she let out a loud gasp.

Mahek’s father was behind her, with his pants down his ankles.

‘WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE?’ yelled Tashi, her face growing red with fury. ‘GET OUT!’

‘Shh,’ said Mr Lalwani. ‘I saw you with that hot model boy. I saw everything, Tashi… And now everyone will know. Unless…’

Tashi couldn’t breathe. She felt disgusted. She looked at the open window at the far end of her room and considered jumping out of it for a split second. Death would be better than this. She looked back at Mr Lalwani, coming towards her with his tongue flicking against his ugly, swollen lips. And that did it.

Tashi was not afraid of that pathetic excuse of a man. She was not about to let him lay a finger on her. She was stronger than him. She was fucking royalty.

***

Noah knew what he had to do next. He had played this game before. He needed to find that old guy in the cell of the water prison. An old guy passed Noah by at that instant - but he was not the right old guy. This guy was too tall and well-dressed. ‘Must be Richard Braintree,’ thought Noah. He was not important at this point of the game.

Then, it struck him. He had seen an old guy creeping upstairs a while ago. That’s where the water prison must be! thought Noah, jumping over the barricade and up the stairs. Noah pushed open a door and entered the walk-in closet. It was dark, but he could make out a demon plunging a weapon in the old man’s chest.

Noah scratched his head. He didn’t remember the old guy dying this way. He remembered him being drowned. Was this not Silent Hill 4 at all? Was it Silent Hill 5, and he was playing it all wrong?

In any case, he had to leave quickly, or the demon would come for him, too, and he would lose the game.

***

A blood-curdling scream rang through the house. Tashi dropped the tray of hors d'oeuvres she was holding and rushed upstairs. Noah’s ears perked up. ‘Cynthia’s dying!’ he said, and he ran towards it, too. But what they saw was something completely appalling.

In the centre of the crowd that had formed were Sophie and Mr Lalwani -- one dead, one as pale as the corpse she was costumed as.

Tashi and Noah met each other’s eyes. Instinctively, they ran towards each other and hugged.

The sight of the blood had snapped Noah out of his trip, and he was too shocked to react.

Tashi smiled as she buried her face into Noah’s chest. ‘Death would be better…’ she said.

‘Mm?’ Noah replied.

By Ta

By: Ekta

The unseasonal rain poured down as Adam walked around the house. He could see everything that was going on inside Tashi and Noah’s living room thanks to the lights and undrawn curtains. The party was in full swing. Adam hated social events, but it was either this, the rain, or his parents’ Samhain celebration back home.

Adam hesitated for a moment outside the main door. He might have escaped his passionate, if not delusional, parents for the evening, but as Adam stood outside Tashi and Noah’s doorstep, he felt his stomach drop. Adam passed off the uneasy vibe of the house as discomfort of potentially having to interact with people. His family’s obsession with extrasensory perception, among other pseudoscientific things, was baseless. He braced himself for probable interaction and walked into the house. Adam immediately started to find the least populated area. He didn’t have to worry about acquaintances coming to talk to him. Most people who vaguely knew him left him alone. It was the strangers that he would have to actively avoid.

Adam entered the living room. He spotted Tashi calling out to Sophie as he made his way around them.

“Can you believe he’s in costume?” Sophie asked.

“Costume?” Tashi asked, taking a closer look at him. “He looks like James Dean on a regular basis anyway.” Adam was dressed in a plain white T-shirt, black jeans, and a black leather jacket. The aviators he had on in the morning rested at the collar of his shirt. “It wasn’t much of an effort for him, was it? In any case, I’m surprised he came at all. He looks bored though.”

“When does he not?”

Tashi smiled flirtatiously. “Bored, but hot. I’d do that.” Adam heard her say as he retreated into a perfectly shadowed crevice. He smirked. People are interesting, he thought, at a distance.

And distance was what Adam was best at keeping in any type of relationship. Maybe this was exactly why most people treated him the way they did – interesting yet alluring. Adam had no friends, just necessary acquaintances. He liked being alone with his thoughts. He wasn’t on any social networking site. His colleagues at work had long ago given up on directly asking him about his personal life. But the lengths some people, usually women, went to get information about him was creepy, if not concerning. It was a wonder that they didn’t think he was an anti-social psycho.

Adam knew exactly what his nosier acquaintances would find if they searched for him online. Adam’s family was somewhat famous for their philanthropy. His great grandparents had started with modest beginnings and built a few stable businesses. They had always made it a point to give to charity. Now, his parents ran those same companies and were known more as benefactors in the community than as businesspeople.

The minutes ticked by too slowly for Adam’s liking. He may always look bored, but that didn’t mean that he was bored. This party, however, defeated him. Adam wouldn’t have bothered coming if it wasn’t for the anonymous invitation. What type of hosts didn’t mention their names on their invites? The move was something Mahek Lalwani, his seemingly eccentric neighbor and longest known acquaintance, would do rather than Tashi and Noah. But it was their house. It didn’t matter to him either way.

Just as Adam decided to make his way to the kitchen to fetch a drink, a scantily dressed Nasreen shimmied in front of him. On a closer look, Nasreen was undoubtedly dressed as the captive Princess Leia from Star Wars Episode VI. Adam didn’t need to ask Nasreen whether she had ever watched a Star Wars film to know that she hadn’t. Nasreen was the type of girl that Googled “sexy Halloween costumes” and bought the most revealing and popular item. For this party, she had roped in a partner. Nasreen had one arm around a guy dressed as Hans Solo that Adam had never seen before. In her other hand was a drink that she kept nudging at a sexy firefighter.

There was no point in trying to work his way around Nasreen and her company. If Nasreen wanted to be seen, there was no escape, even for Adam. He might as well get this over with. Adam had known Nasreen since college and now worked with her. It was no secret that Nasreen had a thing for Adam. No number of one-sided conversations seemed to deflect Nasreen. Her perseverance would be admirable if she wasn’t so narcissistic Adam thought as Mahek wandered by Nasreen. He thought he had seen Mahek’s dad, Mr. Lalwani, too. It didn’t surprise Adam; Mr. Lalwani never missed a chance to shadow his daughter. If Adam had thought that Mr. Lalwani’s stalking was unusual when they were kids, it was positively bizarre now.

“Mahek.” Nasreen called. “Who got Adam to come? And that too dressed as James Dean? Do tell me. Must thank the person.”

“What? Adam’s here?” asked a confused Mahek, spinning around to face Nasreen. She saw past Nasreen and made eye contact with Adam for an instant. She thought she saw a flash of a smile on his face, but reassured herself that she had imagined it. Adam did not smile at people. He didn’t have to because in the rare event that Adam was in conversation with someone, that someone did enough smiling for the both of them. However, there was definitely something unsettling about Adam’s glare, as if he knew something. But then again, Adam always seemed to know more about things than other people. “He’s not dressed up as anything. Adam always looks like that. He probably was walking by and wanted to get out of the rain. Thank the rain gods, I guess.” She said to Nasreen and rushed away before Nasreen had a chance to reply.

Adam had had enough of Nasreen’s show and made his way to the kitchen for a drink. As he waited for the kitchen to empty out, he thought about Mahek’s face. There was something there out of the usual. As if she was preoccupied with something. Mahek seems as absent from this party as me, Adam thought.

The party seemed to get more boring by the second. He took time to finish his drink. But as he wandered around, he couldn’t shake off the feeling he had gotten when he arrived at the party. This time it was even stronger and a chill ran down his spine as his mind flashed with thoughts about death...and a rabbit? Ridiculous, Adam thought. He wasn’t one to be easily spooked. Besides, these feelings and thoughts were completely random; everyone had thoughts about death once in awhile.

"Harry!" a voice said behind him. Noah clapped Adam's back, sending him lurching ahead. Noah was one of the few people that Adam talked to sometimes. Any other person may have gotten pretty upset about being called the wrong name. Adam just furrowed his brow.

"What are you talking about?" Adam asked. His voice sounded rough as it usually did from lack of use.

Noah's face clouded over just as suddenly as it had lit up. "Wait a second... You're not supposed to be here," he said.

"Um," said Adam. "I received an invite..."

"Harry's not in Silent Hill 4," Noah continued, as if he had heard nothing of what Adam said.

The corners of Adam’s mouth ever-so-slightly twitched upwards at the sight of Noah's face. His eyes bored deeply into Adam's and held a child-like concentration. They were dancing, happy, and a little crazy.

"I'm not Harry," started Adam, "I'm -- A...."

"Jasper Gein, of course," said Noah. "I've played this game before. Hold up, I'm going to find your chocolate milk."

Adam narrowed his eyes, following Noah as he bumped around the room awkwardly. And then it hit him. So obvious, Adam thought.

Noah returned with an empty vase. "Here's your milk," said Noah. "Now where's my spade? Give it to me, quick."

"Are you sure you don't want to drink this chocolate milk with me?" Adam said steadily. He didn't feel so good about leaving Noah on his own, but he suspected that there was not much that he could do at this point.

"I'm in a rush," said Noah.

Adam looked around. There was a lamp by the couch. He knocked off the lampshade and tossed him the stand. It seemed light enough not to cause any real damage. "Be careful with that," he said.

But Noah was already gone.

Noah would be alright. At least everybody’s not as bored as me, he thought. Adam decided to ignore the sign about the bottom of the stairs that asked guests to stay downstairs. He needed to be alone and it was still raining outside. Adam decided to look for a bathroom.

He didn’t know the inside of the house and as he walked around he heard voices coming from one of the bedrooms. The voices belonged to the couple that had come to the party with Sophie. He didn’t know their names, but they seemed rather peculiar.

“I’m just glad this ritual doesn’t need a sacrifice.” It was the woman’s voice.

“Yes,” replied her husband. “It’s easy enough.”

Adam didn’t know whether to stay and eavesdrop or leave. Ritual? Sacrifice? Was there no end to this torture of ignorant people and their so-called magic? First his family and now these weirdoes. Suddenly, Adam realized that his heart was racing. He was breaking out into a sweat. Rain or no rain, Adam needed to get out. He headed downstairs and walked out of the house.

The streets were slick with water, but the rain had ceased. Getting out of the house made Adam feel lighter, as if a weight he didn’t even know existed had just been lifted off. His parents were pretty “normal” people. Their dedication to Wicca was a result of a great aunt who apparently had psychic abilities. The family practiced the religion just as other people practiced their religions. There was talk of spells from time to time, but never of sacrifices. His parents were delusional, but not psychotic. They were charitable, caring people. Adam, needless to say, was the black sheep of the family. But the more he tried to disassociate himself from their fanaticism, the harder they tried to reel him in.

Adam’s family believed that Adam possessed the same psychic abilities as his great aunt. As a child, he would mumble stories, while awake or in his sleep, that would occur in the days to come. When he got older, he learned to suppress these weird predictions, or premonitions, as his parents would call them. Whenever his parents would ask him if he had seen anything lately, Adam would say no. They didn’t give up, however, and as a teenager he grew irritated with their persistence. So, when asked about his “sights”, Adam would solemnly describe the items in his scope of vision. These answers relieved and enthralled his parents until they figured out that the sights were all teenage sarcasm and nonsense.

It was during his adolescence when the visions got harder to suppress. That was also the time he became more withdrawn from the world and morphed into the Adam that everyone knew today, that is, an absolute mystery.

Adam had regained his power to suppress all those visions or premonitions or whatever they were as an adult. He didn’t believe in his family’s faith or any other faith for that matter.

By now Adam had walked pretty far from the party. He had been fine this morning. Yet tonight’s unsettling feelings were something Adam hadn’t felt in many years. In fact, he had felt the same way so long ago, Adam wasn’t sure whether he had imagined it as a kid. Even if the feeling wasn’t real, the rabbit certainly was.

Adam must have been eight or nine when it happened. School had just closed for the year and the summer had seemed endless. Adam was skateboarding up and down his street. Mahek was sitting on a patch of grass with her new baby rabbit. Her dad, ever present to keep an eye on the children, was sitting next to her. It was the first time Adam had seen the rabbit and it was cute enough, but looking at it gave him a jolt. He shivered, even though it was one of the hottest days of the summer, and lost his balance. “Whoa there, Adam.” Mr. Lalwani had called out. The man never missed a thing. “Careful buddy. Want to say hi to Mahek’s bunny?” Adam took a quick, frightened glance at the rabbit and rolled away without a reply. It was only a rabbit, he thought. Besides, playing with a bunny certainly couldn’t be as fun as the skateboard. He didn’t dare taking a closer look, especially with Mr. Lalwani around. Adam didn’t like Mr. Lalwani. Mahek’s dad always treated Adam like a baby and gave him unnecessary hugs. Only Adam’s mom was allowed to hug him out of sight of other people.

Adam was washing up for dinner when the vision had occurred. He had a chilling sensation and then an image of a dead rabbit appeared in his mind. The image made him shiver again and his hands turned sweaty. Adam had a funny feeling that the rabbit looked like Mahek’s new pet. It made no sense. Adam couldn’t tell one rabbit from another. Besides, rabbits always died in cartoons. He must have remembered an episode and imagined Mahek’s rabbit in place of the cartoon one. The next day, Adam went out to play after breakfast. When he whizzed past the Lalwani’s place he couldn’t believe his eyes. Mahek was sobbing. Mr. Lalwani was lowering a furry bundle into a freshly dug hole. He heard Mahek wailing and repeating the same words: It was a baby!

Adam snapped back to the present. He had had never told his parents about the vision. In retrospect, that had been a good decision. They would have gone ballistic. Adult Adam felt proud of young Adam. He hadn’t thought about the rabbit in many years. Yet the feeling he had now and at the party was unmistakably the same. Adam reckoned it was nothing. He hadn’t seen a vision or any other shit like that. There was no face in his mind. Adam smirked and shook his head. He was shaken. The striking and aloof Adam was crumbling. If only his acquaintances could see him now. Ha. Adam thought. Still want to get to know me? How could other people understand him if he didn’t understand himself?  Adam’s mind swam with the thoughts of Mahek’s dead rabbit. He was being absolutely silly. Adam laughed aloud. He was surprising himself with his spirit of Halloween. A so-called costume and a homemade ghost story? Good one, Adam, he thought to himself. He was either very tired or losing his mind.

Adam turned around and started making his way back to the party. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to go back in. He could slip back home and into his bed. As Adam walked back, the rabbit, Mahek, Mr. Lalwani, and the couple he heard earlier, revolved in his mind. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t suppress the feeling of death. Adam tried to quiet his mind and think of nothing at all. He walked in quiet meditation and paused for a moment in front of Tashi and Noah’s house. Adam was just about to walk ahead when he heard a blood curdling scream. It was a girl’s scream. Adam’s feet carried him to the front door. He was surprised to see the retreating backs of a tall man and short woman. Sophie’s couple was ditching her. Adam stepped into the living room for the second time that evening. This time he was spoilt for choice of a quiet, human-less spot. The room was deserted. There was no music.

Adam made his way to the stairs and pushed through the crowd that had gathered in Tashi’s room. The closet in the far end of the room was open. There were two bodies on the floor. One was of Sophie Noronha, still breathing. The other was of Mr. Lalwani, bloody and quite dead. Mahek Lalwani stood nearby with no expression on her face. Tashi was in utter shock.

By: Ekta

Lily placed her bags at the entrance, switched on the light and closed the door behind her. She was exhausted. It had been a turbulent flight but she was used to flying and happy to have opportunities that allowed her to fly as frequently as she did. Flying meant she was still on top of her game. It meant that she was making new contacts, working with esteemed clients and building her portfolio.

She surveyed the living room. It seemed much smaller than she remembered. It had been fifteen years since the last time she had set foot in this house. There was no reason for her to visit, no reason to come back, until now. Lily was here on business. She was no longer a little girl visiting her grandmother in her parents’ native country. She hadn’t even come back after she found out that Granna had left the house to her. Now, she was here by her own will. Besides, Lily thought, it would be nice to live in a house while working away from home. She didn’t think it was possible, but she had grown used to living in the snazzy hotels that her job offered. They were all the same, large beds, fancy showers, and locked mini fridges.

Lily was glad to be alone. She was pleased and surprised that her relatives had listened to her. They had not stayed up to greet her at the arrivals gate of the airport like they used to when she was a child. On her own was the way Lily liked to be when she was gathering her thoughts or experiencing something or someplace new. Granna’s house wasn’t new by any means, but she had lost familiarity with it. Had Granna expected Lily to never visit?

The house was just as she expected it to be. The living room was orderly, but the house was barren and there was not a trace of human contact or activity. The furniture was the same as it had been when Granna had died. No one had changed anything in the house. She discovered a lot of dust and lines of red and black ants. “I hope you’re the only inhabitants,” she said to the ants. Lily quickly flitted through the other rooms, the kitchen, the bathroom and the tiny bedroom in which she had spent many summer holidays. She peeped inside and was surprised to see that the bed was bare with neither a mattress nor any bedclothes in sight. Lily had never slept in any room but this tiny one. She didn’t think that she would have any other sleeping arrangements. She couldn’t clean tonight and she would be here only five days after all. She could crash on the couch for tonight.

Lily paused outside the last room. It was unusual. As a child Lily was equally awed at and confused about the structure of this room. It was completely circular with no corners to speak of. Little Lily had never seen such a room in her life. She didn’t think it was possible or comfortable. Lily liked corners. The cornerless room was Granna’s room. Lily placed her hand on the doorknob, turned it and stopped. She didn’t have to go in. She never went into Granna’s room if she could help it during the summers all those years ago. Granna hadn’t forbid her to enter the room as much as she had made it unwelcoming. Lily closed her eyes and tried to remember the interiors.

Granna’s  bedroom was designed to remind Granna of her youth. Granna had grown up near a coast and had spent her summers collecting seashells and staring at her reflection in water that pooled inside the surrounding grottos. It suddenly dawned on Lily that maybe the grottos were the inspiration for Granna’s peculiar circular bedroom. She had never thought of that before. “You must have thought I was a silly child, didn’t you Granna?” Lily said aloud. “At least you don’t have a domed ceiling.”  There were two large wardrobes, a dresser and an armchair. The bed was in the dead center of the room and stood on a lush circular rug. Right above the bed was a ceiling fan. The room had two windows with lace curtains. There was also a refrigerator. Granna detested keeping it in her room, but there was simply no space for it in the kitchen. The contents of the refrigerator were the only things that had lured her into Granna’s room as a child.

The wall was dressed with sea green wallpaper. The wallpaper was printed with a repeating pattern of cream colored antique lace along the border where the wall met the ceiling.  The room reflected Granna’s greatest obsession. Granna had replaced her childhood habit of collecting seashells with collecting mirrors. There was a full length mirror on the wardrobe to the right of the door, a half mirror on the wardrobe opposite the door and another three-paneled mirror on her dresser. There were plenty more mirrors on the walls. It was as if Lily’s grandmother preferred mirrors instead of paintings. She preferred fleeting glimpses of her own reflection and the infinite reflections of the room itself. Even the clock had a mirror for a dial so you could watch the hands of time move ahead in endless cycles.

Lily drew in a sharp breath and pushed open the door to Granna’s room. The little light from the living room that reached Granna’s room bounced off the shiny surfaces so that the walls seemed to emit their own light. Lily stepped inside and avoided looking at the mirrors on the wardrobes. She felt as if she was stepping inside one of Granna’s childhood grottos. Lily made her way to the light switch, still careful to avert her eyes from the mirrors. She failed; her full length reflection took a step a fraction of a second before she did. No. That wasn’t possible. She was just tired. A reflection couldn’t take steps before its source. She switched on the light.

Lily turned her attention to the bed and gasped in surprise. It was made and there was even a little card on the pillow. She resisted reading it immediately. It felt like a déjà vu to her multiple hotel stays. Someone had been in the house. Someone had made the bed. Yet the rest of the house was untouched. Lily hadn’t personally told any of her relatives that she was staying in Granna’s house. They only knew that she was visiting the country because her parents had informed someone. Her tired mind didn’t know what to make of this generous act of hospitality by a mystery guardian. Lily had forgotten how caring relatives who were practically strangers could be. Apparently shared bloodlines triggered some form of altruism. She showered after letting the water wash out years of dust in the bathroom. Lily went through her bag for a nightshirt and gingerly sat on the edge of the bed. She picked up the card.  “Dear Lily, unless you haven’t already opened the refrigerator, I want you to know that it is stocked for your fancy French cooking.” Lily furrowed her brow and walked over to the fridge. “Fancy French cooking?” Lily wondered. She opened the fridge and jumped back as if she had been electrocuted. It was packed with boxes of butter. “I don’t cook French cuisine, I shoot French couture,” she said in a fragile voice. Was this a prank? Lily caught her reflections in the dresser and was surprised to see a tear. She brushed it away, slammed the fridge door and lied down in bed. “I need rest!” Lily said to herself.

Lily had an important day tomorrow. She was shooting a fashion film for a new promising brand. It would be the brand’s first film and Lily was determined to make it a success, for both the brand and her. She wasn’t the plump kid that Granna knew. She was not the girl who had memorized the number of steps to the refrigerator just so she could close her eyes and reach it without having to look at herself in the mirrors. She was an adult now. She was an adult who was lying in bed with her eyes shut tight to avoid looking at herself in the full length mirror on the wardrobe at the foot of the bed. For a few minutes she was tense. She couldn’t fall asleep. All she could think about was tomorrow evening when she would have to pay her dad’s sister a visit. Auntie had insisted that Lily come over for dinner every night. There was no escaping estranged family, no matter how awkward she felt about pretending to know and care about them. Lily turned on her side to face the side of the wall with the least mirrors - the side with the entrance to the room. “How did you sleep in a room full of mirrors, Granna?” she asked. And without another thought, she fell into a deep sleep.

The next day was a breeze and in the evening Lily headed to Auntie’s place. The door opened before the bell stopped ringing. Lily forced a huge smile and braced herself for the inevitable hug. But it didn’t come. “Not this building,” Auntie said. “The salon is in the building behind this one.” And with that she started to shut the door. Lily stuck out her hand and stopped the door. “Auntie, it’s me, Lily.” Auntie’s eyes widened in surprise. “Lily!” she exclaimed. “I was expecting you, but I didn’t recognize you. I didn’t think, I mean, I don’t use Facebook, you know. I haven’t seen you since you were eight. Your father said you worked in fashion, but I didn’t know you were a model.” “It’s okay, Auntie. I’m not,” Lily said with a laugh as she followed her aunt inside to a house full of distant family members. Maybe this dinner wouldn’t be so bad after all.

But Auntie wasn’t wrong to be surprised. People often wondered why Lily worked behind the camera when she so clearly looked as if she belonged in front of it. She looked as different from her younger self as was genetically possible. Lily was tall, slender, and composed. She had intense brown eyes, a slightly crooked nose, and a smile that gave away none of her inner thoughts. Auntie wasn’t exactly wrong either. Lily had been a model when she was seventeen. She had just reached 5’ 9” and had no remnants of the chubbiness that had defined her throughout her life. But the world of constant judgment and forced, unnecessary dieting took a turn for the worse when Lily swung from one eating problem to another. As a child Lily overate and was always on the heavy side. It was a vicious cycle. The more she ate the more weight she gained and the sadder and angrier she got about her lack of control. And so she would seek comfort in food, triggering the cycle. By the miracle of a great group of nice friends, doing well in school, and puberty, Lily broke the cycle. She thought she had it all; the modeling was the cherry on top. No sooner had she walked her first ramp, than she realized, for the first time in her life, what skinny people meant when they said they felt fat. The dieting got out of hand and her family and friends pulled her out just in time from complete self destruction. Lily vowed she would never model again.   

Over dinner, Lily and her relatives assured each other that everyone was fine and life was good. They all tried to push Lily to take seconds and thirds. Someone even remembered that young Lily liked to add butter to her meals and served her some. Lily left later than she had hoped; the jetlag was really kicking in. She promised to say goodbye before leaving the country and returned to Granna’s.

Lily headed straight to bed and was startled to see that it was made again. Maybe a relative had hired domestic help to clean the room. The butter must be a bizarre joke. In all the commotion of that night’s dinner, she had completely forgotten to ask and thank the person responsible for the clean room.  She was already getting used to keeping her eyes down to avoid the mirrors. At least the floor wasn’t one giant mirror, she thought. She lied down and scrolled through tomorrow’s schedule on her phone. The phone’s light glowed brightly and illuminated the mirrors. They threw the light right back at the phone and Lily, making her seem like a beacon. Just as she turned on her side she noticed a note stuck to the mirror on the wardrobe at the foot of the bed. She stared at it before cautiously looking at her own reflection. Despite the long distance traveling and lack of sleep, she looked beautiful. It was still hard for Lily to accept that she had grown up into an attractive person. As a child, this mirror intrigued Lily. Within the little time she spent in Granna’s room, most of it was in front of this very mirror. Little Lily would walk and jump in front of the mirror, but the reflection always beat her to it. She would lie flat on her belly and creep up to it, but reflection Lily always won the race. Reflection Lily was also prettier and thinner than real life Lily. Little Lily would stare into her prettier reflection and whisper, “I want to be like you."

“I’m better than you,” Lily stated to her reflection. The note hung patiently on the mirror’s tarnished glass. Time had worn away the mirror’s sheen. It was now speckled with black and its ornate frame was tarnished. “You always made me look better than my true self. Your reflective version of me was different from the other mirrors’.  I never trusted you.” She plucked off the note and unfolded it. “You will never be me,” it read, as if speaking on behalf of the mirror. Lily froze and the note floated to the floor. What was this? She tried to think of anyone who would and could send these messages to her. Was there some model here from years ago who had a vendetta against her? It was no secret that some of her peers from her modeling days were insecure and brilliant at holding grudges. But the statement was oddly familiar. As Lily pulled the covers over her, she couldn’t shake off a nagging feeling that the note was one of Granna’s catchphrases. “You will never be me,” Granna would say in a stern, abrupt manner. And then she would soften and add, “I was too scared to leave my home. No, Lily, you will never be me. You will fly high, child.”  She decided to talk to Auntie about the room tomorrow. Besides, if someone was in the house while she was out, it was her right to know. The house was hers after all.

The next day Lily called Auntie. “Hello, Auntie? Good morning. It’s Lily.”

“Good morning, dear. Sleep well?”

“Yes, fine. I just wanted to know whether you hired domestic help to clean the bedroom for me?” She decided against mentioning the notes or the butter in the mini fridge. There was no need to worry Auntie about silly model revenge plots.

“Help? No, I didn’t hire a maid. Someone has been in the house when you were out?”

“Yeah. I don’t know who has keys to this place. I’d rather not have strangers here without me.”

“Yes, of course. I’ll find out who hired the maid. Must be your uncle.”

Lily had one uncle, her mother’s brother. It was so like Auntie to blame her mom’s family. “Maybe,” she replied.

“Okay. You don’t worry about this. I’ll ask around and stop the service.”

“Thanks Auntie. Sorry to bother you.”

“No problem, Lily. You go on to work. I’ll get your keys. Bye.”

“Bye.”

Lily returned late in the night. She showered and decided to confront the mirrors. Her fear of mirrors was ridiculous. She had nothing to hide. The mirrors couldn’t reflect anything that she was ashamed of. Lily was no longer an anxious girl disgusted by infinite reflections of her. She walked into Granna’s room with her head up. The room burst with images of her from every angle. But something was wrong. Staring back at her were not reflections of her current self, but many fat Lilys from the past. A trick of the light, thought Lily. She blinked furiously several times. She wasn’t a child. She was a fashion film director. She worked with lights and models and mirrors every day.

Lily opened her eyes. Her plump versions glared back through beady eyes. Lily took a step ahead. She frantically spun around the room, looking into each mirror, one after the other. I must have a fever, she thought. Lily slapped her forehead with more force than required. There was no excess heat. Instead she had broken out into a cold sweat. Sleep, I just need sleep, she told herself. Sleep deprivation was not her friend. Her gaze fell on the bed, the full length wardrobe mirror, and the bed again. The sheets were rumpled. No one had come around to make it. She scanned them in vain for notes.

Lily focused on the mirror. At first all she could see was her reflection. It looked normal, better than normal. Her thighs looked slimmer and her neck was more graceful. And then she spotted it. Another message, but this time it was written directly on the glass in an off-white shiny paste. Lily squinted to make out the letters. “FAT BITCH” it read. Lily rushed over to the mirror. She smelled it before her fingers could reach the letters. It was written in butter. She saw it before she felt it. Her reflection gave her a split second warning as she watched her foot slide on the uncarpeted floor before she crashed into the mirror and onto the ground. The creaking of the old wardrobe couldn't mask her scream as glass and bone splintered at the same moment.

Lily started shaking as the blinding pain of her twisted, broken leg forced tears out of her eyes. Blood started forming drops on the oily lubricated floor. She screamed for help in the lonely dark house and screamed even louder when she heard approaching footsteps.

Lily saw a hundred fat Aunties barge into the room. “Auntie, over here. My leg, it’s broken. I...I don’t know how, who...” she stammered.

Auntie stopped at Lily’s shoulder. She had a look of pure loathing on her face.

“Oh, what have we here? A fallen angel so far from home.”

“Auntie, what’s going on? Why are you here?”

“Why am I here?” Auntie shrieked. “You dare have the audacity to come to my country and live in my mother’s house?  You expect me to hand you all the keys and be on my way out?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Of course you don’t understand, you stupid girl. My mother couldn’t stand you. But how could she stop her only son’s only daughter from staying for the summers? She was a severe woman and I pitied you. I was always nice to you. But mother was right. You were nothing but a fat blob, sad to the core. Hell, you were too scared to come in here. Did you think your reflections would devour you?”

“What do you want?” Lily said, unclamping her jaw. The pain was building, but she was determined not to cry. She had spilled enough tears here as a child.

But Auntie ignored her. “I don’t know what made her leave this house to you. A fat insecure bitch that turned into an anorexic self-absorbed bitch. I thought the notes and butter would scare you enough to make you waltz into one of your lavish hotels. But no. I underestimated you. You are as conceited as my mother. Well, at least she wasn’t afraid of her own reflection. At least she could face herself. You’re no smarter than you were though. Who else but me do you think could have the spare keys? You think a house could be in this shape after fifteen years of neglect? Who even remembers you and your fat-kid butter habit?” she spat. “Me, that’s who. You know the old saying, right? ‘Once a fat kid, always a fat kid.’”

by [indistinct radio static]

   I got fired from my job today. This is how it went:

Him: Customers have been getting in touch saying that we haven’t followed up after collecting cash from them.

Me: I know, Sir. I took the money. My daughter’s fees needed to be paid and the commission you pay me is goat shit.

Him: They haven’t even been logged into the tracker. We have no records of the transactions at all! Where are the invoices?

Me: I threw them into the creek outside my chawl, Sir.

Him: So you mean you don’t have them? This is not done. How did you think you would be able to get away with it?

Me: Well, Sir, I didn’t think at all. I don’t really care about the company’s profits—

Him: I don’t want your excuses. You’re fired. Pack up your things and leave.

Me: Okay, Sir. Bye, Sir.

So I left. I didn’t go home because I’m very afraid of my wife. She is a devil worshipper and performs black magic on everyone who rubs her the wrong way. If I tell her I got fired for stealing, she would murder me on the spot. Because stealing is worse than putting evil curses on people.

I could tell her I got laid off, but my company posts HIRING ads in the newspaper every day. And I can’t stop subscribing to the newspaper. It’s very important to me. You see, every evening after work, I settle down with the Times of India and flip to the Obituaries page.

A door-to-door salesperson meets a lot of people, even now, when the watchmen of most societies chase us away with sticks. I remember each face vividly. The ones that slam their doors on my face, the ones that scream for security, and the ones that try to hit me. (I told my wife about those ones so that she could do her black magic on them.) And I look for those faces in the Obituaries section every day.

Since my newspaper was at home and I didn’t want to go home, I stopped at the newspaper stand and struck up a conversation with the paper seller. I casually picked up a paper and opened it to page 8 while he was looking away.

It took me less than a second to spot one of my old friends. “Subramanian Rajagopalan, so that was his name,” I murmured, looking at the white haired man with soda-bottle spectacles. “He had grumbled that he was not interested before I even said anything… Well, he’s dead now.”

“Hey! What are you doing?” Oops. It was the paper seller. I folded the paper and put it back in its place, hurrying away. I was going to miss being a salesperson. I liked being on the field. I was used to the rejection. I relished it. I was like a shameless dog, butting my nose into people’s business until they gave in and threw me a scrap.

So I walked into a random society. The watchman stopped me. Typical.

“Kidhar jaa raha hai?” (Where do you think you’re going?)

“Arey, mera meeting hai Sahabji ke saath. Woh third floor wale.” (Oh, I have a meeting with the gentleman who lives on the third floor.)

All I had to do was wait. I was used to this – their resilient expressions would soon melt into one of understanding. Oh, sahab told me that his office peon would come by. Ah, he must be here for madamji’s charity work. The resilience in the watchman’s eyes melted away. It was replaced by something soft – like sympathy. “Oh,” he said. “Haan, jaiye. Seedee se left jao. Pehla flat hai.” (Okay, go ahead. It’s the first apartment to the left of the stairs.)

Just another day in the life of deceit and trickery. Usually, once I was through security, I just went to whichever house I wanted until somebody complained and got me thrown out. I was going to do that today, too. Being a DTH cable subscription salesman had its perks. All I needed was a few brochures to be able to trick people into giving me their money.

But I didn’t particularly feel like scamming people today. I was going to go straight to the flat to the left of the stairs on the third floor. I wanted to see what had inspired the watchman’s change in resolve. Of course, I was going to scam him, too. Killing two birds with one stone.

I found the flat. Its door was bare and unadorned. It didn’t have swastikas (the Hindu ones, not the Nazi ones) on the threshold or a “JESUS SAVES” sticker or even a plaque bearing the owner’s name.

I knocked. No response. He had to be home. The watchman wouldn’t have let me in otherwise. So I knocked again, holding my ear to the door. “It’s open,” said a frail, old voice. I pushed it. It was.

The house was very small and very, very dirty. It had a living room, a kitchen and a bathroom. I could smell shit and piss and all sorts of unpleasant things. And it was only after looking around for a few moments that I spotted the most unpleasant thing of all – a gnarled, skinny human sprawled on the couch. He looked like he was going to die any second. “Come closer,” he said. “Sorry for the mess.”

I went closer. Took a chair and sat by his head. “At least wash your dishes. They’re piled up to the ceiling,” I said.

“Oh!” he cried, his eyes watering. “It hurts! Don’t be angry!”

At this point, I was quite irritated. Mostly because he had taken about thirty minutes to speak those three sentences. Also because they made no sense. And also because there was no way a dead man would be interested in subscribing to a DTH cable service. I needed to find a new way to scam him. That’s when he said something that made my ears perk up.

“Don’t hurt me. I have 20,000 in the bank. My cheque book is in the cupboard.”

He didn’t have to tell me twice. I opened the cupboard and reached through the mess to the very back. People always keep their money in the back. My fingers closed around a promising object and I pulled it out. Bingo.

His name was Arun Gunjan. I was too excited to look at his other details. I pulled out my pen and handed it to him. “Sign it,” I said. And with surprising dexterity for a man of his weakness, he grabbed the pen and shakily signed his name.

I looked at the signature. It was shaky as hell. “I don’t think the bank will accept this,” I said.

He flinched at my words and lifted the pen. I put my bag on his chest to give him a steady surface. He signed it. It was better this time.  “Thank you,” I said. He convulsed in response. What a weirdo. I tore out the cheque and showed myself out. The watchman gave me a knowing glance as I went through the gate. All was well.

I decided to go to the bank and encash the cheque, but then I changed my mind. What if the dying sicko called up the police? I’d go straight to jail. Goddamn, Arun Gunjan. What a terrible name. I wish he would die.

I went into a park and started filling up the cheque. I wrote the amount in words and numbers. I wrote my name. It was a hot day. I reached into my bag for my water bottle and took a long swig. Ahh. Better.

I lost track of time until a police officer tapped on my knee with his baton. “Is there a problem, officer?” I asked.

“What do you mean kyaa hua?” he spat in my face. “You’re drinking in a public park! Get out!”

“It’s water,” I said, lifting the bottle up to him. “See?” I brought it back to my lips and took a swig. Some of it dribbled onto my shirt.

The policeman grabbed my water bottle with one hand and my collar with the other. Before I knew it, I was being dragged outside like a dog. “No need to make a scene!” I said to the police officer. “SHUT UP!” he roared back.

I held my bag to my chest and made a bolt for it. I decided to go home, as I often would while I was on the field. At least there I could sit in my corner alone, while my wife worshipped the devil. I stood on the threshold and peeked through the wire screen door. There she was, facing a wall motionless. Praying.

I stepped inside. She didn’t bother to turn.

“Hello,” I said. She said nothing.

“I’m talking to you,” I said. She was still motionless.

“I have something to tell you…-”

“CAN’T YOU SEE I’M PRAYING?!”

I jumped. Her pupils were completely dilated and her hair was standing up on its ends. She was even starting to look like the devil.

“Never mind,” I said, and went to my corner.

After a while, my daughter walked in. She was smiling to herself, her stupid face lit up with the joy of puppy love. When she saw me, her face fell. She knew that I thought her boyfriend was a piece of shit.

“Still roaming with that boy-girl, are you?” I asked. “That idiot who grows his hair so long. He thinks it covers his face, but I recognize him very well.”

“Papa, please,” said my daughter. She looked uncomfortable.

“No need,” I said, shaking my hand with a frenzied motion. “I see him smoking those hand-rolled cigarettes in the corner…”

“Mummy!” she calls out, her tone desperate. The devil worshipper turned around and looked at me scathingly. “Leave her alone,” she barked. “Eat your lunch and get out.”

“Getting kicked out of my own house,” I grumbled. I walked out of the house without eating lunch. I walked out with nothing but the cheque in my pocket. I had encash it quickly.

While I was walking towards the bank, I felt that sinking ache in my heart. You know, the one that makes you feel despondent and wonder about what you’re doing. I took a step forward and stared at my foot. What a wondrous thing, the human body. How great was god. How great was the devil that my wife worshipped. How great was the hairy boy who smoked hand-rolled cigarettes.

I found myself walking towards the bridge instead. It was a huge bridge that passed over the sea. It was meant for vehicles only, but I was a dog who knew how to nuzzle its way in. I was not man’s best friend. I was not the dog that ever had its day. I was the dog that ate people’s homework. And then I ate them, too.

I slipped in between the rails and onto the tiny ledge outside, dangling my legs over the sea. In between the din of the traffic and the crashing waves, I could barely hear my own thoughts. I hardly even noticed that another guy was sitting next to me, staring at me intently. I looked up and jumped slightly. He didn’t make to steady me. He didn’t even smile. He opened his mouth and formed a single-word question: “Suicide?”

I had not been thinking about suicide. I had a cheque for 20,000 in my pocket. I was good for the time being. But when I looked into the man’s languid, dead eyes, I found myself drawn to the idea. Yes, suicide. I just got fired and my wife is a devil worshipper and my daughter’s boyfriend has long hair to hide his ugly demon face. “Yes,” I replied. “But would you like to buy a DTH cable subscription?”

The man didn’t smile. “I don’t think cable TV works in hell.”

“Hell?” I spat. “I’m an expert in that field. My wife worships the devil, you know. She’s his second-in-command. And my soon-to-be son-in-law is probably the devil himself. He has such long hair. Always covering his face. It’s because he doesn’t want to show me that he’s the devil. He wants to marry my daughter and then spring it on me. I know it.”

“If you’re not afraid of hell, then jump,” said the stranger. “I’m afraid of hell. I’m afraid of this agony not ending. That’s why I’m still sitting here.”

I considered his words for a few moments. “I’m not afraid of the afterlife,” I said. “But I am afraid of the pain. Imagine – me, suffocating, but still struggling to hold on to this bullshit life. It’s a little pathetic.”

“Let’s jump together,” said the man to me. “We’ll hold each other down so that there’s not much of a struggle.”

“That will help me get over my fear,” I said. “But your fear of the afterlife still remains. And I don’t know what I can do to help you with that.”

We sat in silence for a while. It was already very dark. “You should live,” I said to the man. “Avoid the unknown for some more time.”

“And you?” asked the man. I could hardly see his face anymore, but his white shirt was luminescent in the darkness.

“I’ll get a new job,” I shrugged. “Drive taxis, maybe.”

“Oh yeah,” he said. “Those Uber taxis are getting popular.”

“No, I think I’ll go with a regular black-and-yellow,” I said, grabbing the rail with my hands as I hoisted myself up and back onto the bridge. “More strikes, more holidays, more ch--”

I looked behind me, but the man was not there anymore. There was nowhere he could have gone. Did he jump into the sea? I looked into the murky, thrashing waters, swallowing a lump in my throat. I couldn’t see anything. There was nothing for me to do but go home.

I woke up at 6 the next morning. Punctuality was my biggest virtue. My wife the devil worshipper poured me a cup of tea and handed me the day’s newspaper. I scrambled to Page 8 as I took my first sip. And I promptly spat it all out.

At the centre of the page was a picture of the man on the bridge. And the name underneath it read ARUN GUNJAN. “Kya hero dikh raha hai,” (What a hero he looks like), I said to myself, smiling wryly. “No wonder I couldn’t recognize him at the bridge.”

Before I could finish admiring his pictures, three policemen came barging into my house and put me in handcuffs. “You are under arrest for robbery and murder,” said the burliest of them.

“What robbery? Whose murder?” I asked. “Are you talking about Arun? He’s my great friend! I didn’t murder him!”

Nobody was listening to me. I swung my head around wildly. I looked at my devil-worshipping wife, who was for once not facing the wall. She looked thoughtful, but not like she cared that I was being taken away. I looked at my daughter, groggy from sleep. She was so pretty, she had all my looks. She was chewing her fingernails. Soon she would get married to that horrible, long-haired demon. Neither she nor her mother would meet my eye.

By Ta

Maybe she just knows it or it is a feeling deep inside her soul, but she knows that she is being watched. Physically, we're on opposite corners of the room. Socially, it would be like we are in two separate continents, watching each other on the news, fascinated by each others’ misshapen, bedraggled lives. Mentally, I think we would be on separate planets, disconnected.

I can feel the goose bumps forming on her arms, the frown lines on her forehead and the prickle of tight nerves on the back of her neck. She slowly turns around and finally catches me staring at her. I know what she will do next…

There it is, that brilliantly happy smile. The smile that tells me that she doesn't really need this job. That happy I-had-a-wonderful-childhood smile that everybody cannot help but return. Everybody but me.

I simply stare back at her with my dead, soulless eyes. There will never be a smile on my lips for her.

Her smile wavers, she looks confused. She simply frowns with a half-smile still aimed at me and turns back to her work. Maybe she thinks I was staring blankly at nothing. But I wish she would think I was a creep. I want to be the tiny smudge of imperfection in her precious life.

I know that the goose bumps are still there on her arms. Maybe if I walked closer, I would be able to see them. I take a step forward but somebody calls my name.

"Get me a coffee, please."

"I need to move these folders," I hear her say in that upper-middle-class-I-went-to-a-convent-school accent. I look at her desk. There are many heavy folders there. She lifts her head and looks at me. Unlike this morning, she doesn't bother to smile in return to my cold stare. She simply bends her head and looks nervous. I gently suck on my lower lip to stop my smile of satisfaction from making itself obvious on my lips. It only takes one vacant stare to turn that smile upside down.

"Come here," the man standing with her says. He is an important saahib. I cater to his every wish. Finally, he is about to ask me something I would take pleasure in doing. I don't need to be told. I simply pile up five folders on top of each other and pick them up. She picks up two and walks behind me.

"Thank you," I hear her say nervously. I don't respond. Instead, I begin to walk slower so that we are now walking next to each other. I slowly move closer until our arms brush against each other. This time I can see the goose bumps that have formed on her arms. I smile at her. She doesn't return my smile.

Then I walk just a little slower so that I am right behind her. Close. I breathe in deeply and let out a loud exhale. Her shoulders give a jerk and she gasps softly.

"What are you doing?" she demands loudly.

"Madam?" I ask innocently. I shuffle the files in my hands as though I find them heavy. She looks at my hands and the clueless expression on my face.

"Nothing," she responds. Her voice shaking just a little bit. "I need to get back to work. You keep these in the storage cabinet."

Saying so, she dumps the folders into my arms and walks away. I wonder if she will tell the saahib. I wonder what words she would use in that privileged language they speak to each other in. How would she describe me? Has she met a man like me before?

I'm in the server room. It is really cold here. My eyes feel heavy. I could take a nap. It is late in the night. I am just waiting for some employees to leave. She is here too. Maybe I can pretend to follow her. Would she notice? Would she tell?

"I think the server's..." I look up and she's standing at the door. The IT person is next to her. She stops talking as soon as she spots me. I am now fully awake.

"Let me check," her companion says. She has nothing to do but stand there and wait. I have nothing to do but stare at her.

"Okay, you wait here. I will go check if the problem is solved," her companion says. She looks nervous at the suggestion but stands there anyway. I stand, to her, abruptly. Her shoulders jerk. I take a small step forward. Her back foot lifts slightly.

"Excuse me, madam." I say as I step closer. My eyes expressionless. My voice low and cold.

"What?" She asks. Her voice is reduced to a squeak. Her eyes are bright and nervous.

"Madam?" I say. My voice sounds confused, but my eyes are still cold. We stare at each other for a few seconds. Her eyes now show me her fear and confusion.

I move forward. She takes a sudden step back and trips on the entrance step. Her knees give way and she falls to the floor. Should I help her up? I bend to touch her upper arm. I don't put any pressure on it to help her up. I simply squeeze it. Suddenly, she is up in a second.

"T-thank you," she says.

"Okay?" I ask. She doesn't reply. Instead, she shuts the door and goes in.

She is the only one left. She was so engrossed in her work she didn't notice me standing in the other corner, staring. Now she is getting ready to leave. I move to the entrance and wait for her there.

She looks at me nervously. It is only now that she has realised we are alone together. "Bye," she says. She moves to the elevator. I take the stairs. I wait for her next to the elevator at the ground floor. She gasps when she sees me.

"What are you...?" She decides against continuing that question and walks ahead of me. I fall into step behind her. She keeps turning to look at me. Her fear and confusion are obvious to me. I move forward. Our arms brush. Her eyes widen. I turn to the locked gates to the building and unlock them. I throw the door wide open and stand back. She looks relieved and moves to the door.

"Madam," I say. She stops. "It is unsafe for women at this time of the night. Should I drop you home?" I ask in Hindi. "No," she says and hurries away.

It has been a while since I last saw her. She was on a vacation. I overheard someone say she went to a warm place.

She walks in with a bright smile. Her arms exposed again. Her skin darker from her leisurely holiday. I wonder where she went. She has bags in her hands. She slowly picks a box from one of them and gives it to the woman sitting in the opposite cubicle.

I walk over with a smile on my face. As I do, I hear the other woman comment about her tanned skin.

"Yes madam, I can see the beautiful tan," I say in Hindi with a bright smile to match hers. I feel a smack against my chin. She looks harassed. Others gasp. I keep my head bent and try to look helpless. Inside my soul I am smiling. There's a feeling of unease in the air. Her smile was never to be seen again.