Guilt II

“My apartment is just a few blocks down. You want to go?”

Her hands were sliding down his thigh and he knew what the invitation meant. None of his friends were around and no one would even notice that he was gone. He could make up a story that he left because he had a headache and nobody would give it a second thought. Her fingers were on his fly now and he felt the surge of blood. He tried to erase the one image that wouldn’t leave his head – that of his wife.

He looked down at her fingers, then her hand, her shoulders and her face. She couldn’t have been over 25. He was on the wrong side of 30. He had been flattered when she asked him for a dance. The guys had hooted and pushed him towards the girl. She had seen the ring on his finger. She knew he was married, she didn’t seem to mind. He had felt a little hesitant in the beginning, but he was having fun after a few songs. He hadn’t felt guilty then. He was, now.

He heard the sound of a zipper being lowered – his zipper. He had to make a decision now. A voice somewhere said it couldn’t even believe he was contemplating it. He had been married for ten years now; he had been in a relationship with her for almost 15 years. What the hell was he thinking?

“Are you coming?” She sounded a little irritated. He didn’t realize his face had been a blank for over a minute now. She tugged him on his pants and pulled him behind her. The decision had been made when he was trying to make a decision.

They tumbled on her bed, nuzzling each other. He slipped off her gown and reached behind her for her hooks. He dug into her breasts and heard her moan. She pulled him up and their lips met. And he froze.

“I don’t care if you sleep with someone, honey. Just so long as you love no one but me, I don’t care.”

He heard her voice ring through his head.

“Stop being stupid. I can’t even think about being with some one other than you”, he heard himself saying.

“But of course, I will have to kill her.”

He heard her laughing and him joining her. It had been fourteen years ago. Had it been that long? They were kids then. What was he now?

He found himself on the floor, wildly grabbing for his clothes. He was still dressing when he left her apartment. He hadn’t said a word to the girl. He felt sorry for her, but he couldn’t think of anyone else now.

He tumbled down the stairs and out the building. The fresh air hit him hard and he hung on to the side of the building, as his body started retching.

Guilt

She made her way back to the window again and looked out casually. She turned away sharply, irritation clearly written all over her face and sat down in front of the clock. Kumar said he will pick her up at eight and it was ten past. But she can wait, she thought. She had waited almost two years for this one meeting. And she was hoping that he will give her enough information to bring the plant down. And then, hopefully, all this will be over. The threats, blank phone calls in the middle of the night, slashed car tires. She was not afraid. But she wanted all this to end. She had something more to look forward to now, she thought as she ran her hand fondly over her slightly bulging belly. But she had been very afraid for him.

She looked up to see a figure slouched over a table reading something as if it was the last thing he would ever read in his life. Her husband, the lawyer. He had been almost killing himself with work over the last year. And she did not blame him. She did not earn a lot of money, the paper did not pay her much. But he understood why this was so important to her. He had been paying for most of her trips. And with the baby coming, he was working for three people now. And it had started to show. They were hardly ever home at the same time and even when they were conversation always revolved around work. Somewhere in the last one year they had lost themselves in their work. But he had been so happy when she had told him about her pregnancy. He had made time for every single doctor appointment. Those trips to the doctor were the closest to how things had been when they had just married.

She wished she had been honest with him. But she had promised herself that she would tell him once all this was over. She wished she had not slept with Kumar. It was a moment of weakness, a moment of need. It was something both of them had regretted later. She had never even thought about carrying someone else’s baby, but she was. She had not told anyone, not even Kumar. She looked at her husband again. But she had to tell him. Once this was all over, she promised herself again.

As she looked up at the clock again, she heard a car pull up below the window. She walked quickly to it and saw Kumar wave out, indicating to her to come down. She nodded to him and walked towards the door.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

He was looking at her intently from the table. The light seemed to fall on his eyes alone, casting a shadow over the rest of his face. His eyes looked a little moist and a little red. Had he been crying, afraid for her? She had never seen him cry before.

“You know I have to. And Kumar is going to be there. I should be safe …”

“… with him. I know. I wish I could stop … ”

“It will all be over tonight. I promise.”

“I know.”

“I will see you soon. I love you.”

He did not reply. He watched her go out the door and the door close behind her. He was lost for a minute and when he recovered, his eyes were suddenly clear. If she had seen them now she would have been equally surprised. It was almost as if he had fallen asleep with his eyes open. He searched for his lighter and found it behind the ash tray. He picked up the document he was reading and held the lighter to it. He watched it burn slowly in his hands and then dropped it in the ash tray in the last minute before the flames licked his fingers.

He picked up his cellphone and slid open its back. He removed the battery and pulled his simcard out. He fished into his pocket and pulled out another simcard. He slid it into his phone, placed the battery and slid back the top. He looked down at the little piece of paper fluttering on his table and dialed the number on it.

“Forest Grove Apartments. Number 217. Half an hour.”

He put the phone down and looked at the door again. He wished he had been strong enough to stop her, strong enough to forgive her.

* * * *

“Sudha Raman had been investigating the Prudent Chemical Company. Her articles had brought them a lot of bad press and their stocks had tumbled in the last 6 months. The state government has been contemplating setting up a committee to investigate their operations and she would have been a very important witness at the hearing, if there will ever be one now. But the interesting twist is that she was found in an apartment with a man. Was she doing her job? Or was she with her lover? The DCP earlier told reporters tHer husband, Raja Raman – a lawyer, has been picked up for questioning and is one of the suspects. Is this a cold blooded murder by a ruthless company? Or is this a crime of passion? Only time will tell.”

Numbers

He was lying on his back, with his eyes tightly shut. 374, 375, 376…. He tried to close his eyes tighter, as if that would make the noise go away. As the night grew, he knew that the sound will only increase. He had tried fixing the tap himself. Someone said changing the washer will help. It did not. He even got a plumber to take a look at it. He was able to fix it, but only for three days. And then the noise started again. 421, 422, 423…

* * * *

He did not know when he had stopped reading the document and started counting the words. He could here the numbers thumping at the back of his head. It was like a hammer landing on his head, one blow after the next. 1047, 1048, 1049… The numbers never seemed to matter. They were just there, in the background, as if trying to remind him about something, but failing each time. He heard the phone ring. He forced himself to look away from the document. He went to pick up the phone. 8, 9, 0, 1, 2…

* * * *

“You need to relax.”

“I am trying to, doctor.” (“74, 75, …. Why did he have to wear a checked shirt today?”)

“You need to pick up a hobby or …”

(“97, 98, …”)

* * * *

742, 743, 744 … He had been counting the people on the street. Seven hundred and … He had never seen some one so beautiful in his life. She looked like a feather, before being blown away by the wind. Completely relaxed, unaware of what will happen the next second, as if she did not care. Thirty two, twenty six, thirty … He burst out laughing. He saw some one streak past him. Then he saw the cars whizzing past in the street, the people moving around him, the branches swaying in the wind, a bawling kid, the music from some body’s window.

He had to go to work. He smiled.

Futility

She couldn’t fall asleep. The eerie comfort of the hospital was more disorienting than calming. She thought about the rope, how the rope felt around her neck, the hard ridges slowly closing in on her and then her grasp for breath. Her hands went to her nose, as if the blood had started flowing again. She had to look down to see that her legs were not writhing. But she had lived. Now she had to live a life she had not wanted – a life she did not want.

Her parents were completely in shock. She felt sorry for them. She had no reason to kill herself. She was their life. They had given her everything they could. They did not understand why she would ever try it. When she tried to think of why she wanted to kill herself, she could not find an answer. She never had a proper reason. Or was that the reason? She could not remember the exact moment she had decided she would do it. Her entire life felt like one blurry motion till the act.

Was she disappointed with her life? She did not know. She could not find a reason to be disappointed. Was she a failure? Nobody else thought so and she could not bring herself to believe that she was one. She had everything that anyone would envy. But was she happy? Always, she thought. She had never been unhappy in her life. Then why did she do it. The answer, for some reason eluded her.

The doctor had said that it was some form of post traumatic stress disorder and she will be ok. She had been drugged for most of last week. But she could not think of it as a trauma. She knew she had wanted to do it more than anything else. It had not been a fascination, but more of a need that she had felt. Her head started hurting and she did not want to think about it anymore.

She sat up and looked out the window. The night air was still and the moon was lost some where behind the clouds. She found the presence of the trees calming and she began to relax. It was then it came to her. It was as if the last week had never happened. She felt as if she was in her room again. She started looking around frantically. She got up and walked out of her room. She found the nurses station empty. She saw a half eaten apple and a knife lying next to it. She walked to the knife and slowly picked it up. Her hand clasped around the handle firmly. She saw her reflection on the blade.

Happiness

The spec on the wall now seemed to grow blurry and big. He blinked absently and it disappeared. He looked away from the wall and searched his room to find a better spot to stare it. He got up as he could not find one and walked up to the window. The faint line of the moon was already visible though the sun had not yet set. She will be home soon. He had to tell her his decision today. He still did not know how to break it to her. But he knew he had. It was for her own good. If she was not strong enough to kick him out of her life, he will walk out of it himself. The irony brought a smile on hic face.

When will he stop hailing himself as a hero? The ego of his was unbelievable. A writer’s ego. A celebrity’s ego. But he had never been comfortable with it, never learnt to live with it. This was what had tricked him to believe that he was good for her.

But he had always known deep inside that he was not. He had always been the righteous. He had always been the hypocrite. He had always been the more successful. He had always been lucky. He had always been open-minded. He had always made her see things his way. He had always seemed generous. He had always been selfish.

But he really did not care. He felt alive with her. She made him feel like a hero from the Greek mythology. And he loved it. He did not care what he was doing to her. And he never realized when he became dependent on her. She was his life support. But what he did not realize was that he was draining the life out of her. He did not want to realize that. He did not want to acknowledge that. The stronger he was becoming, the weaker he made her. And he did not care.

Until he realized something he had refused to accept. But once he realized that everything looked clearer, everything looked so simple. He couldn’t understand why it took him such a long time to understand that he loved her.

He smiled again involuntarily. He now knew what love was all about. He now knew what she was all about. He had tried hard to put that in perspective. He had tried hard to live that emotion he felt for her. He had again failed to realize the extent of his own corruption. He could not get off that pathetic life he had gotten into. He was no longer in control.

He heard keys slide into the lock on the door and the door opened. She waltzed in and he watched her as the room moved in slow motion.

“Beautiful day, wasn’t it?”

He grabbed her hand and forced her to sit next to him. He had to talk to her before she said anything. He did not look up to her.

“I think we should break up. I think I have hurt you enough and I don’t want to anymore. I have been a monster and I don’t understand why you put up with me in the first place. I can’t even apologize for what …”

“Budhu. You think too much and end up complicating stuff. Life is a lot simpler than the stupid books you write. You know what your problem is ….”

Blood

It was the third week of December. He would walk by this street everyday. He had made friends with some of the kids there. All of them were African-American. Most of them did not have a family. They did not go to school. In a few years they would be running drugs or mugging people. But they were good kids. He had wanted to surprise them. He carried a huge bag on his shoulders today. The kids saw him and waved. He beckoned them towards him. After the customary hi-five’s, he settled down on the basket ball court with them. The looked at the bag curiously. When he picked the first of the brightly packed boxes out, their eyes lit up. He passed it to one of them.

When he turned to pick the next one, he felt a boot come crushing down on his face. As he reeled to the ground, he saw a couple of older kids grab the bag and run. He got up and wiped the blood running down his face with his shirt sleeves and ran behind them. As he turned around the corner he heard a loud pop. Before he knew he was on the streets running next to a bus, only to hear a pop again and something whiz past his ears. He heard the bus screeching to a halt beside him. It was then that he realized that some one was shooting at him. He immediately dropped to the ground and rolled under the bus. He had very little idea of what was going on around him. All he had wanted to do was bring a little holiday cheer around him.

****

When they saw this little brown guy with a bag on his shoulder, they had trailed him. When they had seen him open it, they just decided to grab the bag and run. What they did not expect to find was two cop cars parked right at the street corner they turned into. They just froze. The only thing they could hope for was that nobody had noticed them running down from the alley. When they saw a cop get out of the car with his hands on his waist and turn towards them, they just panicked. They went for the pieces that they had gotten a couple of days back. As their eyes met with that of the cop, they already had their guns in their hands and they had no choice. So they did what they thought was the most sensible thing at that time. They shot at the cop.

****

The first bullet hit his partner on his arm and the second went through his waist. He radioed for back up immediately and asked for paramedics. He could not risk checking on his partner just yet. He pulled his gun out and threw the door open on his side open. The bullets had come from behind them. He realized there were two of them, at least. As he lent out to fire, he noticed that they were just kids. The delay gave them enough time to run across the street. As he crept out of the car, he noticed a small brown man run out of the alley. As he just went past his car, he heard shots again. It had gotten too far out of hand. His friends, who were inside the restaurant, came out with their guns drawn. He had lost sight of the assailants.

****

The bus above him started to move, pulling away from those kids. He would be exposed in a minute. The reality was sinking in slowly. Why did he have to run after them? What was he thinking? He was no hero, never had been. But he did not want to die. The bus stopped again. He looked up to see that he was right at the start of the bus, but still well hidden. The kids had disappeared behind another alley. He slowly crawled from under the bus. The bus had started to move again, forward this time and he found himself right in its path. As he shielded himself with his hand, he heard the bus come to a screeching halt. He decided to take the bus and get the hell out of there. He ran around and banged on the door. The driver let him in. As he got inside, he realized people were staring at him. Who wouldn’t stare at a guy who just got himself almost run over by a bus? As he found an empty seat, he noticed a woman cover her kid’s eyes in a protective gesture. He found it strange. As he swatted the dust off his shirt, he noticed a red stain both on his palm and his shirt. He had no idea where the blood had come from. He stared blankly ahead, trying to think. It was then that he caught his reflection on the pane. His forehead had opened up and his entire face was covered in blood. He felt the pain slowly seeping through his head.

Halves

His flight had been delayed by two hours. He really did not mind. He would just be losing two hours of sleep and that was not a problem. He got up to stretch a bit and found himself in the path of a little kid, running down the aisle. He stepped backwards and smiled, as the kid’s dad ran past him to catch up with the kid. He scooped him up and carried him back to where they were sitting. The mom, who had been reading a book, looked up and shrieked as the dad dropped the kid in her lap. They seemed to be having a nice time. He sat back in his chair and continued watching the people around him. A 60 year old lady was knitting a sweater. From the size, it looked like it was for her grandkid. She was also watching the people, as her hands skillfully knitted the sweater. His gaze shifted towards the guy sitting next to him. He was dressed in a cheap suit and was working on his laptop. He had gathered that he was a lawyer, who worked on pro bono cases. He had been on the phone for a long time discussing some case of his. He appreciated lawyers like him. With so much money to make, working pro bono was not something every lawyer prefers. Then there was a family, probably returning from a vacation. There were six of them in total, grandparents, parents and their kids. They looked tired but happy. A little further away, sat two girls. They seemed to be in pretty high spirits and were chatting in high pitched girlish voices for over an hour now. He did not listen much for they were mostly talking about boys. And in the corner most seat sat a woman with a book. She was reading A tale of two cities. She had a frown on her face, and gave furtive glances at the people sitting around her. She seemed to be angry or irritated about something. But she was very beautiful. It was a small terminal and there were not many people around. He decided to take a short nap and closed his eyes.

She put down the book she was reading. She couldn’t concentrate any more. The damn flight was late again. She hated flying. Why couldn’t these planes ever be on time? She was stuck in this god forsaken terminal with some really weird people. There were these pair of girls who had been chatting in a shreiky voice for over an hour now. The only thing more annoying than their voice was their giggles. Then there was this guy on the laptop. She was just happy that he had finished his call. He had been yakking on it for a long time and was only making her headache worse. And then there was this bunch of people just sitting around happy. She had no idea how people could look happy in such a place. She glanced at the sweater being knitted by an old lady and cursed. She had been trying to knit for over two years now and never failed to hurt her fingers even once. And this woman was doing it with her eyes closed. Why are some people so gifted? She looked at the small family who were right then giggling for some reason. The guy was lifting his kid over his head and the kid was shrieking in delight. They were treating the terminal like it was their living room. And little kids have to be controlled by their parents. Only a little while ago, the kid was running around the terminal like crazy. In the middle of all this she glanced at a guy dozing off peacefully with a smile on his face. This was the last straw. She got up and decided to get a coffee from one of the expensive airport stores.

* * * *

They had announced the boarding. He got into the plane the last. It was a very small plane with about forty seats. He made his way his seat and found a book on it. He tilted his head and read the title. A tale of two cities.

“Oh, I am sorry. Let me get that out of your way.”

“That’s fine. Don’t worry about it. Prashanth.” He extended his hand.

As she took it, she said, ”Sunandha. Nice to meet you.”

Money – II

The look on his wife’s face told him that she was serious. He knew that his wife was not altogether happy with the way they lived. She had always expected a better life style. But he could not even imagine that his wife would contemplate murder to become rich.

“I have a plan.”

Without waiting for her husband to respond, she went on. “I would add some of this in one bowl of dhaal. If one of us ends up getting it, I would somehow spill it. That way all of us will be safe. And if he gets it, then we got him.”

Mr.Mehta realized two things. His wife’s mind was made up. He knew he had little chance of changing it. And, it sounded like a reasonable plan. If none of them ended up eating the poison, they did not have anything to loose. And he knew they could use the money. After about two minutes, he nodded at his wife. She almost gave out a shriek. She went back to making roti’s. She had a smug look on her face. He waited silently in the kitchen. The roti’s were all done. She picked five bowls from the shelf. She poured dhaal in each one of them. Then she picked the poison from below the kitchen sink. He watched her as show slowly poured it into one of the bowls. She mixed it in so that it would not look any different from the rest. She put them on a tray and asked him to bring the roti’s.

They set up the table as usual. She made sure she kept the four clean bowls in the places where they usually sat for dinner. She placed the poisoned bowl in the fifth place. She asked her husband to sit in his usual place. She went to the living room and called her kids first. Then she called him for dinner. All of them entered the dining room. Beads of sweat were forming on Mr.Mehta’s forehead. He looked up at his kids, as they sat down in their chairs. His body relaxed and he wiped the sweat on his forehead with the sleeve of his kurtha. His wife motioned towards the fifth place and the guy sat down there. He had the bag in his hands. He placed it on the other end of the table, next to him. His wife came around and sat next to him. Things were turning out well for them.

The kids nibbled on the food, staring at their parents. Mr.Mehta whispered soothing words to them saying that everything was alright and nothing would happen to them. He was looking at the guy from the corner of his. His wife was openly staring at the guy. He wished she would stop doing that. The beads of sweat were forming again. His wife some how seemed completely in control. She had started eating, with her eye on him. He watched carefully as the guy took his first bite. He seemed to like it, as his face brightened and he smiled. He was saying something about the food, but Mr.Mehta did not hear anything. He watched his wife smile. She was saying something to him. She seemed to be acting as if the stranger was a guest. He watched silently as the stranger dug into the food with gusto.

He watched them talking about something, when the look on his face changed. He started choking and the food in his mouth sputtered out. He watched in awe as the man tried to grasp for a glass of water. His body was convulsing and he spat out the water. His face froze suddenly and he collapsed on the table. The water spilled on the table and started to make a pool. Mr.Mehta and the kids watched in horror as a thick red began to spread in the pool of water. Mrs.Mehta was smiling.

“Let’s get his bag.”

No one reacted. They were still staring at the dark red pool on the table.

“Come on. We got him. Let’s look at his bag.”

“What have we done? We have killed someone. What are we going to do now? What will we do with this body?”

“We did not think about it before. But we have lots of time. Let’s first see if what they said on the TV is correct. Let’s see how much money he had.” She was pulling at her husband now.

She grabbed the bag and took it to the living room. The kids were still in a state of shock and they followed their parents meekly. She placed the bag on the couch and opened it. All of them stared inside the bag. It was stuffed with a lot of crumbled newspaper. They started pulling it out in a mad frenzy. They found something shiny and black under all the paper. Mr. Mehta pulled it out.

The look on both his and his wife’s face turned to one of shock. The camera fell from his hands.

“Papa, there is something written on this camera. It looks like…. MTV.”

They heard a knock on their door and sirens in the distance.

Money – I

It was just another Sunday afternoon and the Mehta’s were doing what they usually do on a Sunday afternoon. Mr.Mehta was watching the news on TV. He was a bank manager and spent his Sunday’s watching TV. Mrs.Mehta was in the kitchen, doing something. She was one of those women who spent most of their day in the kitchen, though no one knew what she did there all day. Their daughter, Sameera or “Sammy” as she called herself was on the phone. One could see from the worn cable that this was not just a past time, but her life line. The last Mehta, Sunil was on the computer reading things that were way beyond his age. A typical family on a typical Sunday afternoon.

The bell rang and all four of them paused for a second and continued as if nothing had happened. The bell rang again and Mr.Mehta reluctantly walked up to the door and opened it to find a perfect stranger. He was dressed casually in a cotton shirt and khaki’s. He wore a cap low over his head and a pair of shades covered his eyes. He carried a black duffel bag in his right hand. He also noticed a black van with a few antennas on its roof parked outside his gate. Mr.Mehta had never seen this man before and stood there expecting the stranger to say something. Since the stranger did not seem to be interested in speaking up, Mr.Mehta was contemplating what to do.

“Who is at the door, Rajesh?” It was Mrs.Mehta. Mr.Mehta turned towards the kitchen and back at the stranger to find a gun at his face. For a second he was not sure if it was really a barrel he was staring at. But it was one and a strange thought came to his mind. He had never been pointed at with a gun in his life before and that was overtaken in a second by panic. He found himself taking a step backward and beads of sweat were already forming on his forehead. The man pointed for him to move inside the house and he obeyed meekly. The man came in and locked the door behind his back.

“Who the hell is it at this time…..?” Mr.Mehta saw his wife’s face turn white as she walked into the living room.

“Don’t open your mouths.” Even though it was just a whisper, the voice reverberated through their heads. He pointed to the couch. They sat down. The news was still on. He picked up the phone and listened for a minute.

“Ask your daughter to cut the phone right now and come downstairs.” He gave Mr.Mehta the phone. After about five minutes, Sammy walked down the stairs and gave out a loud shriek. She froze mid scream as the gun turned towards her. In a minute she was on the couch next to her parents.

“Mr.Mehta, go and bring your son here. If you want to be a hero, you can be one without your wife and daughter. I want you back here in 2 minutes with your son.”

In 2 minutes all four Mehtas were on the couch in their living room on a Sunday afternoon, along with a stranger and a gun.

He picked up the remote and flipped through some channels with the gun still pointed at them. He stopped at a channel that was playing the news.
“…is a noted business man who has 4 shops in the city. The one at Rajaji street was the biggest and the most famous. Mr.Kapur, the Assistant Commissioner, earlier told a reporter that about 25 lakhs worth of jewelry and 12 lakhs in cash was missing. This is the third such robbery this month. We will keep you posted on developments.”

The news reader moved on to another article and he changed the channel to one playing a movie.

“Listen carefully. I will be here tomorrow morning. I do not want any heroics from any of you. If you listen to everything I say I will not harm you in anyway. In addition I will throw in a lakh of rupees when I leave. But if you decide to do something stupid, I will not hesitate to kill you.”

He sat down on the chair opposite to the couch. He still had a gun in one hand and the bag in the other. He had not let go of the bag since he came in. He placed the bag now at his feet and adjusted it so that he could sense its presence at all times. He threw the remote to Sunil, which he failed to catch. He bent down to pick it up and noticed something shining on the bag.

“You can watch anything you want. Just don’t talk.”

Two hours had passed and nobody had spoken a word.

“Do you have anything to eat?”

“I had made dhaal earlier. I can make roti’s.”

“Go on, make some for everybody. I am sure all of us are hungry.” He pointed to Mr.Mehta and said, “You can help her in the kitchen. But remember, your kids are closer to the gun than you are.”

Mr.Mehta nodded and they slowly got up and walked to the kitchen.

“What do we do now?” he whispered.

“Make roti’s, I guess.”

“Don’t be a smart ass.”

“Why did you let him in? You are such a budhu.”

“He had a gun in hand, what do you expect me to do?”

“Let’s not fight now. The kids are out there. We should get this done quickly, before they get too scared.”

“You are right. What do you want me to do?”

“Get that aata from the shelf. And get some salt.”

She made the dough and started rolling out roti’s. He was on the stove making the roti’s.

“Wait, I have an idea.” She whispered.

“No, Sumi. We are not risking anything.”

“No, no. Just listen to me. I have some rat poison in here. Why don’t we add some to the dhaal we serve him? ”

“Are you stupid? What if one of us ends up eating it?”

“Listen Rajesh. This could be the lottery ticket we had always wanted. With this guy dead, we would have all the money and the jewelry. Nobody would ever suspect us. We could get rich beyond our dream. If we have to take a risk, we should.”

“You are insane. We are not going to do anything like that. You want to kill a man? What had happened to you?”

“What have we ever got out of that bank job of yours? And he is a robber. I am sure the police will shoot him if they get a chance. We are only doing them a favor.”

“You are just insane.”

To be continued…

I got up to stretch and the train entered the tunnel. I was disoriented for a second and stood cautiously. I heard the sound before I felt the impact. It was a deafening boom, as if a bomb had exploded. I did not realize that I was stretched against the wall of the divider inside a compartment. The next second I was upside down trying to cling on to the bed. That was the last thing I remembered.

An acrid smell woke me up. I could not move most of my body. Luckily I was on my back and I could see what was going on. My eyes opened to darkness and I tried to figure out where I was. The sounds slowly crept in and I could not understand anything. All I could hear were cries of help and lamentations. I tried to move my arms and found that I was able to. But I could not move my legs. I slowly raised myself to see if I was stuck somewhere. I could not see anything, it was two dark. I slowly tried to feel my legs with my hands. As my hands reached my knees, they brushed against something. It was a hand. My legs were jammed under someone else. I tried to wake that person up. He was either dead or not conscious. A chill ran down my spine. People could be dead around me. People could need me. I tried to pull myself free. I found a chain above my head and tried to pull free with it. Slowly my legs started to get untangled. Soon I was able to pull myself free. I felt for a pulse on the hand. I did not find one. Panic began to set in. I had to find a way out. I saw light creeping through a small opening. I tried to crawl towards that. I found blood everywhere. People already dead or dying. I did not know whether to help them or try and get more help. I decided on the later. I saw a small kid huddled under a seat. He was crying silently. I comforted him and promised him that I will get back and get him out. His mother’s body lay beside him. I reached the light and found that to be a door, but it was wrenched shut.

I tried to force it open, but it wouldn’t budge. I started banging at it, hoping that someone would it open it from the outside. I heard a hissing sound and then a voice asking me to step back from the door. I did and I waited. I went back to the kid to comfort him. After half an hour, they were able to cut a hold through the door. I got out along with the kid. The scene outside was even more gruesome. There were bodies everywhere, some of them in heaps. There was blood everywhere. And then there were the voices, the voices that would haunt me for the rest of my life.

I started walking towards what looked like a make shift medic tent to offer my services as a doctor. When I turned around, a white light caught his eye. I froze. Baba was in the train. The white kurtha flapped around in the wind. I ran towards it, stumbling around bodies. Tears ran down my face. I could not control them. I lifted him in my hands and ran toward the tent. I knew he was dead, but I could not let go. I laid him on an empty bed and tried resuscitating him. He would not respond. I looked around for a defibrillator. I found one and I dragged the bed to it. People were staring at me. I did not care. He cannot die. Not like this. Two doctors pulled me away. They would not let me help Baba. Two nurses removed his body, as they needed the bed. They laid him down on the floor outside the door with the other bodies. I looked at him for one last time and turned toward the person they had placed on the bed. I found a pair of gloves to wear and slipped them on silently. I knew this is what he would want me to do.

As he was working on the patient he asked the nurse if she knew what really happened. She told him that some kind of a bomb had exploded on the tracks and had completely derailed the train. It was the worst they had ever seen. It seemed that there had been only one compartment that had survived. Luckily, it was the minister’s compartment. “It would have been a huge disaster if they had died,” she concluded. I could only nod.