Storytellerviv

“The last puff of the day-wind brought from the unseen villages the scent of damp wood smoke, hot cakes, dripping undergrowth, and rotting pine-cones. That smell is the true smell of the Himalayas, and if it once gets into the blood of a man he will, at the last,forgetting everything else, return to the hills to die.”
-- Rudyard Kipling

Four Hours at the SkyBar

I trudged towards the elevators pulling the samples bag. ‘Am I a salesman or a bloody Manager,’ I said to myself cursing my fate. The so called business tour was taking a toll on my senses and all I now needed was a chilled beer. The check in and immigration at Bahrain Airport had been frustrating and now I had full four hours at leisure before I took off for Doha.

The SkyBar looked decent but it was humming with unwanted noises. I am generally a quiet person and seeing all the chaos inside made me think twice whether I really wanted a drink. Anyway I gathered courage and entered the bar; I could see Black, Brown, White, Beige heads whichever color you want, coupled with a cacophony of multiple languages. To my utter relief and disbelief I spotted an empty space in the corner of the bar. I pounced towards it like hungry lion and settled down with a satisfying heave. The Arab sitting next to me just looked at me with bloodshot eyes through which I could see the Budweiser river gushing ahead, full throttle.

I acknowledged his glance with a nod, fished out a book, pack of cigarettes and settled down.

‘Hello, can I have a beer,’ I said to the bartender. ‘We have many beers sir, which one would you like to have.’

‘Get me a Heineken,’ I replied turning the pages of my book.

‘Sir would you like to have a Bottle or a Can,’ he said without any change in his expression. I just looked at him cockily and said ‘No I want neither,’ with a touch of sarcasm.

‘I am sorry sir,’ he replied still maintaining the calm of the ever grinning Filipino bartender, gosh they were extra efficient; I have always thought so when it came to service. “Service with a smile”, well I agree with it now. ‘I want a Heineken draught, is that fine.’

‘Very well sir and he sailed away.

Now was the time to scan the surroundings, behind me was a group of pissed drunk hippies, so they looked, as I could only see beer cans strewn all over and no table in sight and they were laughing like lunatics. Next to them was a Texan cowboy. Why the fuck was he wearing a cowboy hat and dingoes in Bahrain, Americans are weird, they have to be different I chuckled to myself, he had a strange accent which was funny plus he had caught hold of a fellow American and they were discussing about the current state of jersey cows in America and their milk giving capacity.

Next to them was another American couple discussing something I couldn’t guess, the lady was quite generous with her midriff, and the Arab next to me had been losing no time in ogling like a hyena at the bountiful assets on display. For a moment my gaze was also glued on the spot but one has to be a gentleman in public places, so my gaze decided to hover someplace else but pay a visit to the spot once in a while.

‘Now what do we have here,’ I said to myself slowly and looking directly in front of me, well there was a girl sitting on the table opposite mine and gazing in my direction , oh boy finally my lucky day. Chest out butt in, I plunged into the eye game with full vigor. The beer had arrived, I had familiarized myself with the surroundings; the game had begun.

I lit my cigarette and settled down with the book glancing now and then at the ‘spot’ and the ‘game,’ the Arab next to me had decided to be bolder, he laid his head down on the bar and was in direct line with the spot, the lady had no intentions of taking action, I guess she was rather enjoying all the attention. The cowboy was staring at the Arab, the hippies were still howling, the game was looking in my direction if not at me. An Irani couple came and settled behind her on the sofa and ordered for their drinks.

‘How much is a beer for,’ I heard a sheepish voice. There was malabari gang of three people which had moved in and looked like construction workers, I took a sip, slipped in the bookmark and started following their conversation in an interested manner, and here it goes:

‘How much beer?’ – Malabari representative

‘Beer is for two dinars sir’ – Filipino bartender

‘How much is the tin (can) for’ – Malabari representative

‘Beer is for two dinars sir’- Filipino bartender

‘Can we get in a glass for one dinar’ – Malabari representative counting the money.

‘Beer is for two dinars sir’ – Filipino bartender

‘Ok give us the small glass for one dinar’ – Malabari representative looking desperate.

‘Beer is for two dinars sir’ – Efficient, service with a smile Filipino bartender.

Finally they lost patience, counted their money, had a final discussion and agreed to leave in peace looking at the flowing bar greedily while departing. The bartender heaved a sigh of relief; I didn’t know what to think, whether to laugh at a fellow countryman or feel sad. The game was looking at me again; I obliged her by giving a long penetrating gaze, suddenly she butted out her cigarette picked her bag and left. ‘Shit, I said to myself at least she could have smiled.’ I burrowed myself again in the book.

‘Can I have a light,’ I looked at the new entry, a bearded American with a clear and crisp tone.

‘Yes sure, I said passing him the lighter, he lit his cigarette and was now between me and the Arab who was still busy studying the spot.

The overzealous Texan cowboy with a paunch which could cover half the globe came trotting towards the bar, ‘One gin with tonic,’ he said to the bartender and looked at the Arab. He could see where the Arab was aiming for and tried to strike a conversation. I was hooked on to my second cigarette, took a puff, threw a cursory glance at the spot and focused my attention on the rotund cowboy.

‘So you an Arab ehh’ – paunchy Cowboy

‘No I am from Dubai’ – Spot hunting Arab (in full Arabic attire i.e. white tablecloth, as I read somewhere)

‘Which means you are an Arab’ – Bearded American with a crisp tone joining in.

‘Hey man was sup, are you an American’ – Pissed drunk paunchy cowboy to the crisp American tone.

All the three were looking at each other, the Arab not wanting to be left out remarked ‘I have been to America for training once, ok place hmmm’.

‘Which state were you in,’ – Crisp American tone.

‘United States, I told you Americaaaa” – Drunk spot hunting Arab to both the Americans. The two Americans looked at each other and then looked at me I gave them an encouraging look conveying my regards- ‘take him, he is all yours’. I puffed on my cigarette and busied myself in the ensuing ensemble.

‘Well America is big, which part did you take your training in, - Crisp American tone.

‘Engineering department in America’ – Confused, caught, drunk, spot hunting Arab.

I chuckled to myself and hid my face behind the book; the Arab got up on the pretext of taking a leak and hurried across.

‘The fuckhead Bedouin has never been out of the desert’ – The paunchy American roared off laughing looking at me, suddenly he focused his gaze on the hippies on the sofa behind us.

‘Hey are you guys from Philippines, Manila, mama sita, Noodles,’ something of that sort, the hippies stopped their howling and stared at him. ‘Yo man I have lived in manila,’ and he started making funny gestures and noises aimed at convincing them that he had a local touch. The hippies looked oriental but were not amused.

‘I go Manila, I take flight, I go America, then I go back Manila.’ The paunchy cowboy was muttering with his eyes closed trying to sound genuine. The entire SkyBar had focused their attention on our area.

One of the hippies got up from his seat and placed himself between the two Americans, ‘We are from Chile and going to Kuwait for work,’ he said smiling.

The cowboy and the crisp tone looked taken aback at their misjudgement; they abandoned the discussion there. The cowboy invited the crisp American tone to join his friend on the sofa to talk about Las Vegas or cows, it didn’t really matter. Incidentally I noticed two malabari jabbering away with a young American sitting just next to the spot, and eyeing ‘the spot’ at every opportune moment. We will never change was stamped all over them.

“Pheww,” I said to myself and asked the bartender for a refill. Nothing happened for another hour, the Iranis left for Iran, Cowboy’s extra friend left to catch his flight, the Chilean hippies were back to their drunken orgy, the Arab had returned to his usual place and started off from where he left. I had another hour to kick off and was by now engrossed in the book “The Third girl – Agatha Christie.”

After two beers my senses had also started floating, needless to say I was enjoying the feeling after a dry and hot stop in Kuwait, the next destination – Qatar also was not an exciting prospect, Bahrain attracted me. I closed the book and started pondering about my work and life, what I was doing and why I was doing it. Should I move back to India? All these thoughts were mixing with the brew.

‘Hey, you guys are from Philippines right’, a jovial but foreign accent cut in.

I looked up noticed a fat European already looking drunk sinking into the chair between me and the Arab, where once the great crisp American sat. He was looking in a weird way towards the Chileans and to our surprise he started on the same trip.

‘I have house in Manila, very nice place, beautiful girls, you go Manila?’ – Fat European.

I looked at the Chileans; they looked at the cowboy who in turn stepped on the dais. As we are all aware America always saves the world, so here we had the paunchy Cowboy in his boots and hat coming forward to save the day.

‘Mate, this gang is from Chile’ – American Cowboy.

‘Huhh, you don’t tell me I know a Filipino when I see one, they are from Philippines’ – Fat drunk European ordering a double scotch.

Sitting in the corner I had been a silent spectator, but now I was pulled into the drama. The paunchy cowboy rode up to me, ‘Dude tell him who they are?’

‘They are Chileans,’ I said to the Fat European, who eyed me suspiciously ‘And who are you?’ he snapped.

‘Dude he is not from manila either,’ cut in the Cowboy. The Chileans were now eagerly looking at us and happy with the attention they were being given. I felt that the bar was no more a sane place to be in and lit another cigarette. The Fat European gulped his two shots and started on his Manila experience with the American cowboy, I buried myself in my book once again. In due course of time I realized the Fat European was a German shepherd, the cowboy had shifted away from him as soon as he realized that.

One of the Chileans came up to me and said, ‘What is manila?’ I just looked at him and said,‘Don’t you worry, you just look like manila,’ he seemed satisfied with the answer and went back to share the mystery with his friends.

‘Holy Shit! My flight is about to depart,’ said the German shepherd in haste. ‘Bartender, pass me my cheque,’ he fired across the table. The Ever smiling bartender was at the moment busy smiling at other customers.

‘Have I paid my bill, I think I have,’ the German shepherd nudged me slowly in a drunken stupor. I lowered my book and looked him in the eye with hostility. ‘I don’t think you have,’ I said with distaste.

‘Eh, then I need to pay it hahaha, Bartender!!!!!’ barked the shepherd.

‘Sir, its five dinars,’ said the bartender with the cheque and showing his white calcium fortress.

‘Five dinars for a shot of scotch, you must be mad,’ shot the German with boiling anger, ‘you are cheating the bloody customers, I will have you booked.’ Meanwhile he was also loosing his balance and swaying like a seesaw while hurtling profanities at the ever smiling bartender.

He somehow managed to get up and delve into his wallet, counted five dinars and threw the bills at the Filipino bartender whose smile by now had vanished into thin air. ‘But sir, this is five Jordanian Dinars, we do not accept Jordanian currency,’ he replied meekly, and very likely on the verge of tears.

‘This is all you get, you ass and I am leaving, tell the police if you want to, try to stop me from boarding, I am leaving,’ saying the German staggered along the bar towards the exit, screaming his flight number and boarding gate. There was pin drop silence, the poor Filipino was just staring at the Jordanian currency blankly looking very hurt. I was studying his reactions closely and sipping my beer, but yet again the silence was broken by the saviour, ‘the American Cowboy.’

He came up to the bar with his fellow American and coaxed the ever crying Bartender. ‘Don’t worry dude we will pay up for the freak show,’ saying he took out a crisp five dinar note and gave it to the bartender.

In a flash the smile returned, everything turned ok, the dark clouds cleared, the sky was bright, and yet again the US of A had saved the world. ‘We will keep the Jordanian currency as a memento of our visit,’ said the cowboy wincing, and returned to his place.

My departure was also due by now, I paid my cheque with the right currency, and left a generous tip for all the entertainment. Pushing the bags was now a bigger pain in a state of drunkenness; I allowed an elderly European couple to enter the elevator before getting in.

‘What do they call this place, Bahhhhrrrraaain,’said the elderly European lady sounding amused.

‘It sure is a funny name dear, ‘replied the elderly European Gentleman even more amused.

I just closed my eyes and stood smiling in the corner, thinking of the funnier and more amusing things in life…..

Men, Women and a Murder...

Murder! Murder! The cry rang out in the haunted Railway colony lane. Rajhi the colony sweeper was running hysterically, announcing the murder. The street dogs had been woken from their slumber and were looking in a puzzled way towards Rajhi’s direction.

Even the colony chowkidar was aroused from his karmic meditation, ‘What? A murder in the colony,’ he said yawning excitedly. Finally in thirty years of his service he is going to see some action in this sleepy colony. Stuffing a beedi and armed with a well oiled lathi, he ran towards Rajhi.

‘Ms. Cooper has been murdered,’ said Rajhi, gasping for air.

‘What the old Granny? Who would want to murder her?’ muttered Mr. Patel, the colony head, who had run out half naked with his lungi fluttering halfway over his head.

The seniors and distinguished members of the railway consortium had collected in the colony ground, Mr. Patel, Hazari the chowkidar, Mr. Biswas the fish eater, Raju the colony goonda, Mr. Bhatti the events organizer (who had already started thinking of future events and media galore), Mr. Kamran the poet (who was already gazing at the stars and composing his best funeral couplet, maybe this will be the day when he will be finally noticed), and finally Mr. Das the grand old man of the colony, who could barely see or hear anything.

Let us not forget the loudest majority of the railway colony, who had also come out of their hibernation and were keen for action, the women, who kept popping in and out of the dimly lit windows.

‘Tell us what happened?’ asked Mr. Patel, allowing Rajhi to gain his composure.

‘Nobody should enter granny’s house till the police arrives,’ poked in Mr. Das with an irritating slur. It seemed he had a soft corner for Ms. Cooper and was deeply agitated with the current happenings.

‘I happened to cross by her house and saw the door ajar; there she sat on her rocking armchair with blood all over and eyes wide open,’ said Rajhi with fear in his eyes.

‘Don’t worry Rajhi, its all right now,’ Raju ventured to calm him down.

‘Who could have ventured into my territory,’ Raju whispered to himself, seeing his reputation being challenged.

In between the ongoing chaos, suddenly the colony lights went out without a warning, the entire congregation jumped with amazing coordination.

‘It’s the murderer, he wants to kill us all, wipe off the entire colony, and he has started laying his plans. Run for your lives,’ shouting Mr. Biswas made for the nearest exit.

‘Calm down and shut up Biswas, the electricity goes out at 10 pm for half an hour, everyday,’ said Mr. Patel. His intervention had a soothing effect on everybody; even the fish eater had been pacified. He rejoined the group gathering the ends of his dhoti.

‘We must sit together till the electricity comes, tell the women to close all windows and doors Hazari,’ Mr. Das said to him. He went about the task rather hesitantly, but the women had already started pouring out from their houses, trying to get a glimpse of Ms. Cooper sitting with her eyes wide open.

‘These women will get themselves killed, the killer is still roaming the grounds,’ said Kamran finally finishing off composing his tribute for Ms. Cooper. Candles could be seen gathering near Raju’s house who was Ms. Cooper’s neighbor. Namrata his wife had become a celebrity overnight.

Inspector Kabir arrived with the electricity and his entourage ordering Mr. Patel to herd away the womenfolk to their respective quarters, the coroner also accompanied the inspector.

Suddenly the railway colony had come alive with activity all credit to Rajhi and Ms. Cooper. For the moment, yelping of the street dogs, clanking of the railway bogies and the hooting of the train horn were forgotten and ignored.

Inspector Kabir went on with his duties diligently. The body was shifted to the ambulance and shipped off. Except Mr. Patel, Hazari the chowkidar and Rajhi everyone else was cautioned to stay indoors.

‘We cannot say anything right now, will have to wait for the coroner’s report tomorrow,' Inspector Kabir said to the colony head. ‘I have left two guards just in case,’ he said in an assuring tone.

‘Did you not see anything?’ Kabir questioned Hazari, who was supposedly the chowkidar, the work at which he was adept at only in the mornings.

‘No-No nothing sahib,’ he said with full confidence, ‘there was not a soul in or around the colony, I can vouch for that.’

Hazari had been an efficient chowkidar in his days but a comment from Mr. Das a few years back had taken away his vigor. One night he had been on his daily rounds shouting, ‘Jaagte Raaho’ when suddenly Mr. Das in the mood for some fun (the urges get the better of you, once you cross seventy), blurted out, ‘if we have to do that for the night, why have we kept you, for sleeping, you lout, shut up and do your duty.’ There was a hearty laugh that followed for months on this joke, which deeply hurt Hazari and he has been like this since then.

After few more questions Inspector Kabir bid everyone goodnight and left, promising to come back the next day with the outcome.

Mr. Bhatti was already busy organizing a press conference for the next morning, and being the events organizer of the colony he had to take care of the funeral also, surely he was a busy man that night.

Kamran had retired after being satisfied with his compilations and was waiting for the big day, his recitals could be heard in harmony with the street dogs in the wee hours of night.

Mr. Patel was busy chewing his paan and planning out the dress he would wear the next day as the headman.

Raju was till puzzled and busy trying his contacts to find out which bhai or goonda of Rajgarh could have dared to enter his domain.

Mr. Biswas had locked himself inside his parental king-size trunk and was already asleep to catch the early morning fresh fish from the bazaar.

Mr. Das sat in his balcony staring sadly towards Ms. Cooper’s house, though he could barely see anything even with his spectacles on.

Rajhi had gone back home after achieving star status and had to be ready for the local newspapers tomorrow once the murder was announced. (Say goodbye to the sweeping job star).

Finally Hazari the chowkidar had gone back to his daily night duties; sleep in peace once again, as now he had two policemen available at hand.

Everything was again calm in the railway colony; even the dogs had gone off to sleep. Only the honking of the night train could be heard in the distance.

If the night was dominated by men, hold on, the morning was contested and won over by the womenfolk of the colony.

Namrata was up early; she had telephoned her relatives scattered all over the sub continent, right from Jammu to Allahabad, finally culminating on the shores of Kanya Kumari, updating them of her adventure.

‘Oh yes it happened just next door, it was gruesome, I have never seen so much blood in my life, we were good friends with her, the police is on it, I am one of the key witnesses, sad,’ this was the general line of conversation with all of them and when finally satisfied with the outcome, she went inside to dress up for the day.

‘Hello Namrata are you there?’ Mrs. Biswas was shouting at her front gate, slowly Mrs. Patel, Supriya the school teacher and Mrs.Bhatti also joined in. Everyone wanted to be near the murder site and what better place than Namrata’s.

The men folk had gone out to fulfill their daily duties so the opposite sex had the day to probe the murder mystery. If the stand during the night was taken on the colony grounds; battlefield for the day was Namrata’s courtyard.

The sleuths were already congregating inside to form a general consensus and give their final verdict.

‘Ms. Cooper was very rich, I am sure she had pots of gold hidden under the flooring,’ said Namrata addressing the meeting. ‘Yes these Anglo-Indians are very rich, her son also works in London, that is what I have heard,’ Mrs. Patel leaped inside the conversation not to be left behind, forgetting Ms. Cooper was never even married.

‘She never spoke to anyone much, but was a nice lady, I am sure that sweeper Rajhi is the culprit, he must have got hint of the money and seeing an old lady alone, must have clubbed her and created the scene,’ Namrata said with firm conviction.

‘Well your husband was seen leaving her house in the evening, that was the last time she was seen alive, Mrs. Patel,’ said Namrata. Mrs. Patel sensed the attack and counter attacked vehemently, ‘he went for colony matters everyone knows the fact, moreover Namrata your husband is the goonda of Rajgarh, I am sure he has something to do with it, he must have seen the hidden money and called in his goons to do the job.’

‘My husband was locked up in the trunk with his fish, he cannot be the one,’ Mrs. Biswas said meekly. Nobody paid attention to her.

‘Shut up all of you, why are we fighting among ourselves, it could have been an outsider,’ said the intelligent Supriya. ‘I have my doubts on Rajhi and Hazari if it’s an insider; they were the only two people wandering around the colony yesterday night.’

Cross examination went on for another two hours, theories and hypothesis were formed, snacks were served to enrich the grey cells of the jury, but still a decision could not be reached.

‘I have seen Rajhi peeking inside Ms. Cooper’s house many times in a curious manner,’ said Sarla the housemaid, while serving the snacks, eagerly wanting to become a part of the conversation. Her revelation took everyone by surprise and infused a new spirit in the group.

‘What are you saying Sarla?’ said Mrs. Biswas with fear. ‘He cleans my lawn too, oh Durga Mata, what will happen?’ He cleans all the lawns in the colony Mrs. Biswas, not only yours,’ Supriya replied with a desperate wave of her hand.

After a grueling session the verdict was finally passed, based on Sarla’s breaking evidence Rajhi was found guilty. The ladies seemed satisfied with their work and broke off promising not to disclose their views to anyone until they hear the Police’s verdict and then offer them their line of thought if they flounder. Namrata was unanimously chosen as the leader of the pack.

Hardly had they left for their homes when phones started ringing. Namrata called her relatives all over again, telling them how remarkably she had solved the mystery. Mrs. Patel called Mrs. Shah, Mrs. Biswas called Mrs. Gosh, Mrs. Bhatti called Mrs. Jolly, Supriya called all the schools of Rajgarh and Sarla called all the snack bearers in the vicinity. The telephone lines of Rajgarh were thus jammed for the next whole hour.

Soon the word was out all around the state that Rajhi was a murderer; the feat was achieved in just half an hour, maybe business school graduates should learn networking on the railway colony campus rather than blowing away their parent’s hard earned money on campuses abroad.

The most interesting part was that no one knew where this news originated from, what mattered was that everyone knew who the culprit was, and they just knew it. ’Has the money being found? Has Rajhi been taken into custody? We cannot trust the servants now.’ Even the local newspapers were baffled; the police had yet to come out with their verdict.

Rajhi was locked inside the house and his mother stood on the entrance with a hatchet ready to finish off anyone who dared enter and hurt her son. ‘My son sweeps floors, not people, but I am adept at both,’ that’s what she was heard shouting waving, the hatchet.

Within hours the colony had become alive, reporters were pouring in (just two of them, but were considered many by the railway colony inhabitants). Mr. Bhatti had also organized a stage with a microphone and was actively handling the proceedings i.e. shouting at Mrs. Bhatti who was smacking the junior Bhatti across the field, Mr. Patel was roaming around in his new Dhoti kurta waving to anyone and everyone, Mr. Das was still confused what was happening and was limping around staring at everyone though he could not see anyone, Raju had got his friends to control the reporters and any gangsters who were expected, Mr. Biswas was back inside his trunk after his fish luncheon, Kamran was in queue behind Bhatti to rehearse his couplets on the microphone.

On the other hand the womenfolk were on with their daily chores as if nothing had happened and they had never heard of a Ms. Cooper.

The cacophony created on the grounds, left even the animals running for shelter, by now the situation had got out of control Bhatti and Kamran were fighting for the microphone to make themselves heard, Mr. Patel had managed to get on the stage and was waving around to the street dogs, Mr. Das had limped his way accidentally to Rajhi’s house and was readying for a duel with his mother, though blindly. Raju and his goons were surrounding Rajhi’s house and Mr. Biswas was seen escaping for the bazaar to get fresh stock for supper.

The ruckus was broken with the arrival of the police jeep. Inspector Kabir straightway went towards the stage to have a word with Mr. Patel and the reporters. The women gathered around at the edge of the ground smiling at each other with satisfaction.

Within a few minutes, the reporters were seen leaving the scene, Mr. Patel and the seniors all talking to themselves made a move towards Rajhi’s house. Kabir was accosted by the women on his way back to his jeep.

‘He is the murderer, we knew it Inspector,’ said Namrata jubilantly.

‘What murder? Whose murder, there was no murder,’ said Kabir in an amused tone.

‘Off course Ms. cooper who else?’ Mrs. Biswas said trying to be brave.

‘No Ladies, Ms. Cooper died of a heart attack, she was already seventy five and had a heart ailment. The coroner’s report says clearly she died of natural causes.’ Kabir said, with a nod of his head.

‘But we all saw the blood,’ Namrata said in an astonished tone with the entire group nodding in approval.

‘Oh that was not blood, it was a red berry face mask given to her by Mr. Das as a valentine gift, to smoothen and bring glow to her skin,’ said Kabir laughing loudly.

‘Red berry paste, you said ehh,’ said the group in a chorus looking at each other.

‘Well I just don’t understand one thing, how did entire Rajgarh get hooked on to the stupid idea, that she was murdered, and that also by poor Rajhi,’ said Kabir, rubbing his chin in confusion.

‘Even we are wondering about the same thing, poor Rajhi,’ the choir sang out, once again in perfect harmony……

My friend Ram

I still remember everything vividly...

It was vacation time! My first since the time I had enrolled in a boarding school in Mussoorie. The yearning to be back with my family after a ten month hiatus was filling me with emotions I had never experienced before.

Soon I would be gliding down the mountains and wading in the plains again. My home beckoned me; the people who cared were waiting for me.

I waved goodbye to my friends, who were as excited as me running around the school flat with their belongings. One could see the Hammals with trunks and Hold alls with hockey sticks poking out, on their backs, moving swiftly from one taxi to another. There was a line of ambassadors waiting to cruise you down on the winding Mussoorie – Dehradun highway, the environment was full of chaos, cars, Hammals and parents.

I looked around; there was an air of joy. Even the mist was slowly descending upon us to share our happiness, and play with the tall oaks. The wet green moss carpeting the walls were slowly shedding tears in trickles, bidding us goodbye, the ferns had come alive and were waving back and forth. Soon they would all be enveloped in a white blanket and only come out to welcome us when we returned for the new academic year in March.

Rajgarh, the place where I hail from is a small peaceful town located in the heart of India and nothing exciting ever happened there. But to be in known surroundings, walk the same roads again, and feel the recognizable smell of evening air was pushing up my adrenaline with every passing moment as I approached it. The train slowly chugged to a halt at the platform, my heart was beating fast, ‘where are my parents?’ I asked myself, looking left and right for them eagerly.

Then I saw them, the tears just couldn’t stop escaping; I ran on the platform forgetting everything, to be enveloped in the comfortable embrace of homecoming.

It is said that good days fly past, but within a month of serious pampering at home, I started to long for the hills again and there were still two months to go. Having many friends back at school and none here, made me feel lonely in Rajgarh, all I could do was eat, sleep and run behind my mother all day. My sisters were not very enthusiastic about playing cricket or football or even cycling, they were well justified. The younger one had barely come out of her nappies, so I could not blame her.

‘There is a mela in the colony today,’ announced one of the servants trying to cheer me up.

‘Can I go there Mom?’ I asked my mother in a pleading tone. She fully understood my loneliness and readily agreed. The servant was to accompany me to the mela.

The colony ground was a small one; the place looked like an overcrowded Bazaar with children running here and there, the yellowish dust was rising above us, people were screaming out their bargains for the day. The things which attracted me the most were the Giant wheel, the snake charmer and a puppet show. Snakes were something which fascinated me always; we had a good and jolly group of them in our garden. My servant told me they helped in cleaning the house of rats, which I am sure they did with a real professional touch.

There was a strange snake with a head on the both the ends instead of a tail on one, which amazed me; I could not take my eyes from it and squatted down with admiration for the creature.

‘It is from the Gujarat desert,’ said the snake charmer enriching me about the double headed reptile. I just nodded my head and continued gaping at it. A cobra also jumped out from one of the disk shaped bamboo boxes.

‘Truly majestic,’ I said to myself. For the first time in my life I had seen a Cobra from such a close distance. The snake charmer went out of the way allowing me to touch it, it felt cold and leathery.

Just then across, on the other side, I saw a boy of my age smiling at me. I smiled back returning the courtesy and he slowly came towards us, my servant on seeing him said something in the local language and he replied back with gestures pointing towards a particular direction.

‘Bhaiya I will be back in a minute, in the meanwhile Ram will give you company,’ my servant said, pulling Ram and giving him instructions to stay with me. I introduced myself and he also squatted down next to me to enjoy the snake show.

‘Where do you live Ram?’ I asked him after a brief pause. He pointed towards the railway quarters just opposite the ground.

‘That is very near to my place, I live in the next lane,’ I said with enthusiasm.

‘I know, you live in that long snake like house,’ He replied in an amused manner. It bought a smile on my face, ‘what do you mean snake like?’ I asked laughing.

‘Oh it looks like a snake sooo long, starts from one corner, ends on another,’ he said using his hands to explain the length. The servant joined us then, I asked Ram if he would like to go on the Giant wheel with me. He was overjoyed at my invitation and we started off on our evening of fun and frolic.

It was the first time then, that I noticed him; he was the same height as me, wheatish in Colour. His hair was patched with some real solid glue or oil which held them together. A half shirt with two buttons hung on his frail frame, the zippers of his shorts were held with a safety pin, and he preferred walking without any footwear. The most important thing was we had started to understand each other as the evening grew old.

From that day onwards Ram started visiting my house regularly and we soon fell into the habit of playing in the garden till the sun went down. My parents had no reservations as I was finally enjoying my stay now and had company. I would tell Ram my boarding school stories and he used to listen with deep interest and fascination as I was someone extraordinary. He taught me the art of playing Kanchas (marbles), Pitthu (seven stones), pulling water from a well, breaking street lamps and patio bulbs with a gulel (catapult) and running wild without caring in the open fields. I enjoyed his company, every day he had a new game to astonish me with.

One day my father got a bicycle for me; it emulated the design of the larger and sturdy Atlas cycle, the only difference being the height and support wheels on both sides. I felt overjoyed at my new acquisition and started to feel like a grown up already. Ram’s house was the first destination which came to my mind and I sped off.

‘Ram, Ram, come and see this,’ I shouted from outside. He came running followed by a train of children presumably, his brothers and sisters.

‘This is so beautiful,’ he said touching the bicycle. ‘Father got it for me today,’ I said excitedly. Everyone was hovering around with wistful eyes; I was full of pomp at that moment. Ram was happy I know it even today, he was, but I missed a look which came and left his face then. It is the look which I still see sometimes today when I close my eyes and rewind.

‘Come Ram hop on, I will take you on a ride,’ I said pulling him on the carrier. We went around the entire colony, the next colony and the next. We crossed the farms, touched the rice mill, and overtook the train. It was evening already and we were in Patel colony which was near to our Railway colony. One of my aunts’s lived there so I thought of surprising her with my new bicycle.

I told Ram we will have snacks at my aunt’s place and then go home, he readily agreed to the proposition. My aunt was overjoyed at seeing me and praised my bicycle; the entire household came out to kiss me as if I had returned from a war after many years. Ram just stood in the corner looking at the ceremony. We were ushered inside the house and I asked Ram to sit next to me on the sofa. It was then everyone noticed him.

‘Who is he?’ My aunt asked in a strange tone. ‘Oh aunty he is my new friend Ram, we play together everyday,’ I said munching the sweetmeats in front of me.

My aunt gave him a scrutinizing look, to make matters worse Ram’s nose was flowing in full flow, he had lost one of the last remaining buttons from his shirt and his feet was covered with mud. We both never realized anything and were busy eating and planning our next adventure. Aunty had seen it, she called me inside once we had finished and gave me a rupee.

‘You should have better friends; you can’t go around with anyone like this.’ She said with a sigh.

‘Oh aunty we are good friends and I like his company, he knows a lot more than I do and he is teaching me new games everyday, I teach him English only, bye now we have to go.’ I kissed her goodbye and cycled off with Ram.

The days actually flew away; time to return had arrived. Ram had come to the station to see me off; my parents were accompanying me to Mussoorie this time. He had made a bouquet of flowers plucked from the neighbor’s garden and neatly rolled inside the Navbharat Times newspaper. I told him I will be back in November and we will carry on from where we left.

I saw him waving sadly, and staring blankly ahead, till the train disappeared for him and the platform for me.

Two years flew by like this, every winter vacation I came to Rajgarh, every time Ram came to receive me and see me off at the station. My biggest surprise was when I got a letter from him at school, it was not legible enough but it left a mark on me. I started writing to him also occasionally, telling him what I was doing in Mussoorie, my escapades and adventures. I don’t know how he managed to understand them then, but twenty odd years later I came to know from one of my sister’s friend who was a teacher and lived in our colony that Ram got all my letters translated by her.

In two years time we had grown up together and a bond had developed between us. I still recall once we were cycling around the market, we stopped at a stationery shop.

‘I will have that one day,’ I said pointing towards a Hero fountain pen with a golden cap, kept in the showcase. ‘The cost of the pen was twenty rupees, a princely sum for a fourth grader.

'Three more years and once I reach seventh grade, I will graduate to a pen from a pencil,’ I said looking at the pen.

‘Yes, it will be yours one day and then you can teach me also how to write with it,’ Ram replied dreamily.

We used to hang around the marketplace, sit for hours near the tube well, and gather the smooth mud from the drying pond near our colony. Three months went and came again, I returned, we played and then again I left.

With time, we grew and so did our intellect, at least mine if not his, he became intelligent and I conceited. By the time I reached sixth grade, I felt a vast change in my personality, I had already stopped writing to Ram sometime back and now was even avoiding him.

The difference which I had never seen was shown to me by people around me, I forgot we were friends, time had changed and so had my thinking and outlook towards life. I wanted to stay with people like me, I felt as if Ram was an embarrassment and nothing more than a company when I was small. This was not an everlasting friendship for me, something which we had promised each other near the tube well, to stay 'friends forever.'

During my vacation I started avoiding Ram. He came to see me many times but was given some excuse or the other at my behest. One day we were going out for lunch, as our car pulled out of the house, I saw Ram walking towards us, it was the last time I saw him. He had grown tall like me, and looked neater than before.

Our eyes met for a brief moment, I tried to say something through them. He was more intelligent and understood the nervous movement of my eyelids. For a second, I think, I saw a sad nod of approval from him.

I kept looking back till the dust as a mediator wiped us apart forever, and all I could see was a friendship melting into it.

The guilt never left me; Ram never came home after that.

I had reached seventh grade and was just reading a book in my garden one day when the servant came up to me and said, ‘Bhaiya you remember your friend Ram.’

‘Yes, what happened?’ I asked him.

‘He gave me this to hand it over to you, when you come for your annual vacations,’ saying this he placed a small box in my hand.

I told him to leave and opened the box; I saw the gold cap of the Hero pen at once, with a small chelpark ink bottle and a note saying ‘best of luck’ in a crooked handwriting.

I don’t remember for how long I sat staring at the pen that day, a lump formed in my throat and I cried. I do not know how he managed to get that pen, where he got the money from? But he remembered I was going to the seventh grade and how badly I wanted it.

I tried locating Ram that day and the days that followed, but in vain. His father had retired and the family had shifted to their hometown.

It’s been twenty years now since then. I still walk down the lane where he lived and cross his house whenever I am in Rajgarh. The memories are still alive, the times we had, the things I learnt from him, I have become adept at marbles and the catapult, all credit to Ram.

Though I never cry, but sometimes I feel a strong urge for tears rise inside me, especially whenever I try to take a walk down memory lane. Wherever he is I am sure of one thing he must have become a better human being than me.

I being the educated one turned out to be illiterate in the end. I have asked God to give me one chance before I die to meet Ram, face him, and say sorry to him as a true friend and not out of guilt. Maybe someday I will and then we will remember the days as real friends together. I still have the pen and it works perfectly….

The Adventures of Detective Momo – Short Stories

A detective is born

"Sherlock Holmes of course," I said making my point clear. "He was the best detective ever; I shall surpass him one day." I said dreamily. My cousin just shrugged, he was least interested in the discussion.

I had come home on my annual winter vacations from boarding school. This academic year had been a very exciting one, reasons being, I had moved to the senior school as a ninth grader, and most importantly, I had chosen a career path for myself. I was proud of what I had achieved in the last eight months, finishing off volumes of Sherlock Holmes and Hercule Poirot mysteries available in the library, and spending hours on the mountains polishing my skills of deduction and observation.

Now, I had the perfect opportunity to bring into use the powers I had gained in the hills, and embark on a journey of intrigues. My cousin Amit was not at all amused with my career progress, and sat there mocking at me. Though only four years elder to me, he thought himself as a reincarnation of Socrates, ‘sigh’; I pity philosophical people who don’t follow methods and order.

‘Ha!! Aunty, Momo wants to become a detective’, ridiculing my candid revelations, he went out laughing to spread the news. A detective had just been born, all I needed was a case to start off my budding career and prove to the world my finesse at the art.

Like my idol, I also needed a Watson to compile my cases and act as my eyes and ears and I just gathered who the lucky one was.

"My dear Watson, I have a job for you?" I said to my younger sister Nita, who was busy dressing up a stupid Barbie doll in her room. My sister though only a year younger, had still to learn the basics of real world which was unlike her Barbie doll house. But she had potential and I was willing to mould her, what other options did I have?

‘Watson eh, who’s he? A new film star,’ she said innocently.

"Nita my sister you don’t understand, your brother is going to be famous soon and you are going to be a part of his success. Have you heard of Sherlock Holmes?"

‘Is he a film star too?’

"Never mind forget them, well you see that greeting card," I said pointing to a card lying on the table.

‘Yes I do, in fact Mom had asked me to open it earlier,’ she said, stooping towards it.

"Can you guess whom is it from?" I said with a superior nod of my head and embarking on to give her a small sample of my skills. ‘How can I know unless I open it? The sender’s address is also not mentioned.’ She said with a puzzled expression.

"Well I can tell you without looking at the envelope, it’s from Canada and Aunt Anita is the sender. Open it."

‘Wow brother you are right, how did you know?’ she said looking at me with awe plus admiration and puzzlingly at the envelope.

"Watson it’s the art of deduction. Observe it’s an airmail which means the letter is from abroad, we don’t have any relatives besides Aunt Anita who lives there and could have sent us a greeting. Finally the Canadian stamp on the envelope confirmed the identity of the sender. So you see it is all nothing but logic."

‘You are great brother,’ Nita exclaimed, with the awed expression becoming even more awed.

‘It was so simple but yet complicated, anyone could have noticed the stamp and guessed.’

"That is the difference between you, me and anyone; you still have to learn a lot. I have been practicing my powers since the last eight months." I said haughtily.

The small but fruitful dialogue finally got me an awed associate, though a little low in grey cells content, but I could manage. I still had to take her into complete confidence with few more demonstrations of my newly found powers. I Shall do it positively tomorrow, I reminded myself.

The morning was a beautiful one and I had a feeling that my first official case was around the corner. Nita was eyeing me the entire time while we finished off having breakfast, maybe trying to convey a message across.

"Well what is it?" I asked her tugging her inside the drawing room.

‘You know my friend Shruti, don’t you?’ I nodded in approval.

‘I told her I am Washburn or whose son, whatever, and you are Detective Momo now.’

"Its Watson," I intervened.

‘Yes Wat-a-son, she was impressed when I told her about the envelope case, you should have seen the awed expression on her face, and guess what?’

"What?" I replied with an exhilarated feel of having two awed followers already.

‘She has a case for you to investigate, it’s a murder.’

"What murder eh?" I said overjoyed hugging Nita, ‘but murder is nasty business, we have to be careful. Call her in the afternoon and let us hear about the tragedy. And you get a diary and start making notes, this is our first case," I said to her excitedly.

Even Sherlock Holmes’s first case would not have been a murder; things were moving fast, I had expected a minor theft or misunderstanding but a murder never. It was always good to start early in life and I had the gift.

The skills my idols acquired during a career spanning their lifetime, I had in fact mastered in a few months by just reading all their ways and methods, an intelligent shortcut I would say, which deserved a pat.

We gathered after lunch in the Drawing room, making sure everyone else in the house was asleep, especially Amit, I didn’t want dumb witted moron’s intervening in between matters of grave concern. I sat on the head Sofa with my fingers crossed giving a serious and thoughtful look, Watson sat at my side with her Barbie doll notebook and finally Shruti opposite us, looking awed with the ongoing charade.

I have to mention that the grey cell count of Nita and Shruti was fiercely competitive and I had to keep this factor in mind during our discussions. With a gesture of my hand I beckoned Shruti to start.

‘Well Momo it happened this way’

"Detective Momo or just detective," I said intervening.

‘Oh sorry detective,’ I could see the awed look reappearing on her face. ‘I shall try my best to relate the incident as clearly as possible, well; I left Nina in perfectly good health day before yesterday and..’

"Who the hell is Nina?" I cross questioned her. ‘Oh she is Shruti’s best friend,’ Nita cut in.

"Ok, so you have also met her, keep noting down," I said to her. "Yes Shruti please continue."

‘Nina suddenly disappeared yesterday, I tried looking for her in the house, colony, everywhere, and even Ramu Kaka was on to it but in vain. Finally today we discovered her body in the garden; somebody had cut her throat,’ she broke off sobbing.

"So you discovered the body in the morning," I said. (But of course in the morning moron, I guess I was being too logical hummph.)

‘No it was Rocky our Dog who found it.’

Hmm I though to myself, correct!! Dogs are the first people to smell anything dead. "And was Nina living with you?" I asked.

‘Yes Mom and Dad had brought Nina two years back,’ she said sobbing. I comforted her; Nina was an adopted child, her sister. What a ghastly incident.

"Have your parents informed the police?" I asked.

‘No, Mum asked me to keep mum, no calling the police.’ She replied.

"This is not good the police should have been informed and where is the body?"

‘Its still in the house, Mum said we will bury it on Sunday,’ she said with tears rolling down her cheeks.

"What? The body is still in the house I need to speak to Mrs. Gupta, this matter is serious," I beckoned Nita to get the telephone set. Shruti dialed her home and I was put on to a husky voice.

‘Yes, who is it. Oh Momo tell me,’ she said.

"Aunty I am really sorry to hear about Nina, Is it ok if I come down to have a look," I said with a voice of assurance.

‘Sure son come down, Shruti is taking it really very hard, I feel sorry for her, Nina was her sister, and we have to still catch the culprit who did this to poor Nina. I guess you can help her out.’ She said in a rather sad voice and hung up.

What have the elders come to? Keeping a dead body in their house was something totally insane. My mind was racing, already a hypothesis was forming but I needed to examine the scene of crime and the body to net in more clues and round up suspects. Every minute detail mattered in a murder investigation.

"Ok Shruti I will take up this case, we need to go to your house right now to investigate and let’s also finalize on our fees." I said.

‘What fees?’ She exclaimed looking rather surprised.

"Detectives don’t work for free, we work on a fee, I am sure you want to catch Nina’s killer, I’m your only hope." I said in a serious tone.

‘I can offer you two Dairy milks, that’s my entire wealth,’ pleaded Shruti.

‘Can I have the doll bed too,’ Nita giggled in.

"Shut up," I shouted in anger. "Nina has been murdered and all you can think of is dolls and only dolls, I shall exclude you from my internship.

The sentence on exclusion took Nita by surprise and she pleaded to be forgiven. After all she had seen my powers. So once everything was decided and agreed upon, I put on my blazer, gloves and cowboy hat, slipped in a magnifying glass which I had bought for three rupees, useless though but gave a professional touch. Being under age I could not smoke a pipe so I suffed a toothpick in my mouth making it a trademark style, a final look in the mirror and I was ready.

‘Where do you think you are going in that hideous dress, a Halloween party maybe, and what’s with the toothpick,’ said Amit entering my room bursting with laughter.

I was flushing with anger but ignored his comments as there were more important things to attend to rather than playing Aristotle, Aristotle with the dumb witted moron.

My mother soon followed after him, ‘what is this you are wearing Momo, and where are you off to,’ she asked sounding puzzled.

"Mrs. Gupta has called me to help her, there has been a murder at her place," I said seriously. There was howl of laughter in the background and I saw Amit rolling all over the floor.

‘The great detective Momo has been called to solve a murder hahaha!’ He kept on howling.

‘Amit shut up and Momo you better stop playing such stupid games, I shall speak to Mrs. Gupta on this subject and what’s with the toothpick,’ mumbling she left the room.
I had also by now seen enough howling of the baboon and decided to join my admirers who were waiting in the drawing room.

"Lets make a move," I said entering. Both the girls looked at me, then looked at each other and then again looked at me, this time with awe.

‘You look mind blowing boss,’ Nita said, full of admiration.

‘What’s with the toothpick,’ said Shruti.

"It helps me think in a logical way," I replied trying to sound intelligent and again was greeted by the very same expression I was getting used to now ‘awe.’

Ramu Kaka opened the gates for us as we entered. "I am really sorry Kaka about Nina,’ I said in a comforting tone.

‘What? Who? Eh Nina, ahh yes it is sad very sad,’ he said scratching his head.

"Can you show us where the body was found Shruti?"

She guided us to a spot in the garden, ‘here’ she said pointing towards the grass. I chewed on my toothpick and went down on my knees, feeling the grass.

"Hmm I see two set of footprints, and some of the grass has been ruffled here in this place, which means that the body had been dragged from the verandah, " I said thoughtfully putting my magnifying glass back in the pocket in a professional way.

"Ahh what do we have here," I said and bent down to slip an object of interest in my blazer pocket.

‘Can we have a look with that glass? We can’t see anything,’ Nita said.

"Not now," I replied, "maybe later we are finished here, nothing much to see eh! Let’s examine the body," saying I glanced around one last time like any other detective would and noted the same expressions which I don’t need to mention now on the faces of my interns.

Ramu Kaka was still scratching his head as we crossed him, looking at us in an amused manner.

‘What’s with the toothpick Momo baba,’ he said scratching his scalp even more vigorously.

‘It helps him think in a logical way,’ Shruti jerked in before I could open my mouth. I nodded in approval.

‘And the hat helps in keeping his big brains inside his small head,’ cut in Nita enthusiastically trying to gain my nod of approval. I looked at her in disgust as we entered the house.

‘Let us go to my room directly, Nina is sleeping there,’ said Shruti. Hearing her only gave me the creeps, how can one keep a corpse inside the bedroom and where are the elders? They have no concern or brains.

‘There it is,’ she said pointing towards the bed starting to sob again.

I looked in the direction but was unable to see anything, maybe it’s under the bed and quite logically it should be there I thought to myself, where else can it be. Slowly I eased myself under the queen bed. There was nothing there.

‘What are you doing under the bed, the body is on the bed,’ retorted Shruti.

‘Boss is looking for clues, I am sure,’ replied Nita, saying something intelligent for the first time. Well I did not see any body on the bed, I thought to myself, must have missed it, let us see again. I came out in the light again.

"Where?" I asked.

‘There,’ said Nita pointing on the bed

What I saw next should have brought about a turning point in my detecting career but due to my inner strengths and resolve I survived the shock. There lay on the bed a ‘Barbie doll’ with a cut on her throat. I was taken aback by the sight, I had no words or as they say, mum is the word.

‘Isn’t it shocking,’ said Shruti wiping her tears.

Nita comforted her with an equally matched answer, ‘I would have felt the same if someone had done this to Jessie.’

I felt like tearing my hair and running like a madman on the streets, I had actually overestimated the little and the tiniest grain of grey matter which was there in the two brilliant brains. My hopes had been dashed, the first case had become a fiasco; I was actually investigating the case of a murdered doll. Amit’s howls of laughter started ringing in the background.

‘So what do you think detective?’ said Shruti breaking into my thoughts.

"What do I think Eh? What do I think? Both the nit wits had no clue what I had been going through, they wanted me to catch the murderer of a doll. Thinking logically at the same time, I could not reveal my lines of thought so far otherwise I would make a fool of myself and also end up losing my two followers, especially their expressions.

Also I had accepted the fees for the assignment and the code of a detective does not allow him to turn back. What would Sherlock Holmes say? I pondered.

"The show must go on, as said by someone, sometime for some show." I got a sudden vision on how to solve this crazy mess.

‘Boss is everything all right?’ nudged Nita, waking me up.

I picked up the doll examined it closely and then gave a slight smile, yes the same smile which brings on the expressions. It was very clear from the scratch marks that the culprit was none other than Rocky, Shruti’s dog.

"The case is solved, I know who the killer is," I said with a triumphant wave of my hands, followed by throwing away of my toothpick with the click of my finger.

(Well I cannot describe it; you had to be here in person to see the expressions on both the faces. No wait a minute I sensed rather panic on Nita’s.)

‘Can I have a word with you in private brother,’ she pulled me outside the room. Shruti was still mesmerized on her spot.

‘Will you really tell her the Killer’s name,’ she said now approaching tears.

"Yes I have to Nita, I hope you remember we had accepted the fees and this is my job. But why are you behaving like a loony." I said amusingly.

‘How did you find out that I had killed Nina, don’t tell her please, I will give you my dairy milk chocolate,’ said Nita desperately panicking.

"Well, Well, I say," my mind was going round and round and round. So Nita had taken the doll, that’s why she was dressing her up the other day or rather undressing her as it was found dead nude. I never thought from this angle. My powers were failing me; I had to think of something. An idea struck me instantly; it pays to be a real detective.

"Ahhh its ok dear, I knew it from the beginning it was you who had done it but I just wanted to hear it directly from the horse’s mouth," I said calmly.

‘Really brother I must say, you are brilliant. I always wanted Nina’s dress for Jessie but Shruti would never give it to me, always showing it off, so one day I pinched the doll. While I was undressing it the razor struck her throat accidentally and the soft neck just gave way, not my fault though. Then after finishing off, I went and threw the carcass in Shruti’s garden.’ She finished with her hideous story. What a dangerous girl, but can come handy to ward off danger in times to come, I might use her as a potential weapon against my future enemies; I think I sensed it right.

"Well that is a very bad thing to do even though I know Shruti is a show off, it does not mean that you go on a stripping and slitting spree, I should not hear of this again, you understand." I said in an authoritative tone.

‘I promise, but what are you going to tell Shruti now,’ replied Nita.

"Leave that to me, I am a detective," I said wincing at her. (Yes I saw the expression; you don’t have to tell me, Momo is not a fool)

"People gather around as I am now going to reveal all." Shruti looked around there was no one else in the room. (And I was not in a mood of doing a full Monty) I saw her concern and quickly rephrased my sentence, "Well just sit both of you and I shall bring out the facts."

"The killer is an insider Shruti," I said bringing some pain to my voice, "and I can prove it."

‘An insider I can’t believe it,’ she shrieked completely shocked.

I pointed to the corner where Rocky was busy licking his tail and proclaimed, "He is the culprit." Rocky was caught unaware, I guess. He panicked suddenly at my outburst and making a yelping sound ran out of the room.

‘What proof do you have,’ Shruti said with certain excitement.

"Well you observed when we were in the garden; I had picked up an object." I reproduced the object from my blazer pocket.

‘That is Rocky’s name plate from his leash,’ puffed in Shruti.

"Precisely, I discovered it at the crime scene, also one of the set of footprints there were Rocky’s. With precision and a magnifying glass, a good detective can ascertain the difference between human footprints and a paw." I signed off on a winning note.

"Now let me re-construct the entire scene for you, Basically there could only have been one suspect because uncle was on tour, aunty was busy watching recordings of the K-factor drama throughout the day, Ramu Kaka is too old to pinch and slit dolls, Nita was no where near the house when you discovered the body, she was with me and you my dear cannot murder your own friend, so logically who remains." I said finishing off confidently.

‘Rocky, who else?’ punched in Shruti with admiration.

"Precisely, I believe he had a grudge against her. You always dressed Nina in beautiful clothes and poor Rocky was ignored always. Jealousy got on too him and turned him into an animal, so he sneaked inside your room when no one was around and dragged Nina to the garden through the path, where we observed the ruffled up grass."

‘Poor Nina, but where are her clothes? And who slit her throat,’ Nita asked in a puzzled manner. (Well you should know better nitwit, I thought to myself).

"Ohh its pure logic again, Rocky is three months old and at this tender age dogs have an itchy feeling in their canines, I correctly presume after studying the scratch marks, that Rocky took out his itch on Nina keeping in mind the grudge. After his itch had been satiated he realized what he had done, so he took off with all shreds of evidence from the crime scene, I mean whatever was left of her clothes."

Nita was even more wide eyed than Shruti after my brilliant expose; the expressions just kept getting better.

‘You are a genius, can I also work under you like Nita,’ Shruti said pleadingly.

"Well, well, we shall talk about recruitments later, I am really tired after such a tough case, and my brain needs some rest. Nita are you coming home?"

The sun was setting on the horizon throwing a bright orange streak across the sky; I was followed out by my admirers with Rocky yapping at their heels. The poor soul had been convicted wrongly though I confirm I had seen his itch marks on Nina’s face. Well that was the price he had to pay for his canines, I guess.

Shruti bid us goodbye thanking me again and again with the ‘look.’

‘Detective Momo you are the best,’ she said clasping her hands together. I just flicked my hat with the tip of my fingers and moved on. Ramu Kaka was still scratching his head.

‘Eh Momo Baba where is the toothpick,’ he said in a confused tone as we crossed him.

‘His brain is sleeping and cannot think logically now, so the great detective does not require the toothpick,’ Nita cut in with enthusiasm to gain my vote of confidence. I nodded blankly, reminding myself of her grey cells level as we trudged along.

---------------------------

{This is just the beginning of Momo’s adventures, he was not aware of the greatness he was destined to achieve in his mohallah and the next mohallah, mohallah’s of other cities, and international mohallah’s, in the coming future.

He with his entourage of awed grey less cells and moron’s was the best thing to have happened to the detective fraternity, and it is as we say again ‘just the beginning.’}

Alive Again

All I could rememember was skidding off the main road and ramming on to the pavement with a loud noise caused by metal cramping against stone. Tire bursts are not something which you expect driving on a beautiful morning full of life, but no one knows it might just be your day, By the time I realized what was happening, I was stunned and completely crushed inside the car slowly melting inside the metal furnace, there was a sharp penetrating pain at first but then calmness started to take over, my body had gone numb.

There were people all around, staring at me with hands covering their mouths as if it were some unique site or if an horror act was been put on and the end of which had convincingly hit the nail in fulfilling its objective. A group had formed surrounding the debris but no one dared to come near even when they were seeing me struggle to live, I had never imagined myself lying mangled inside a smashed car without any hope of survival and being made a mere subject of interest.

My life started to come and go in a flash, sometimes the visions would blur but the memories kept striking against the walls and remained. There were many things which were unfinished, “I should have taken care of them earlier”, I thought to myself, it seemed as if I was preparing myself for the long journey ahead already.

“It cannot be this easy,” I heard my brain tell me one last time and then it went into a deep sleep.Fire brigade and ambulance alarms were the last sounds which I heard before losing audio and visual contact with earth and floating away into the darkness. As it was my first dying experience it left many questions in my mind regarding the core principles of death, how could it be so peaceful and calm? Why was there no pain? When things happen the way you want them to, it means there is definitely something wrong, otherwise the world would be just too perfect.

It is hard to say how many weeks or months it took but finally one day I heard voices around me, though there was darkness all around, the voices were present to give me company, becoming clearer and clearer with every passing moment. Was I in heaven, but surely it can’t be dark out there, then it must be hell I suppose.

It did not take me long to understand after overhearing the doctor that, I survived the crash, but had slipped into a coma . What I had heard of this state during my conscious days was that it is like sleep, in which individuals are completely unarousable, and unresponsive to external stimulation and to their own inner needs. Survival chances were very diffcult in such cases unless miracles come to your aid, i was aware of the facts and was trying to prepare myself for what lay ahead.

There was still darkness around, I could not feel my eyes, there was no sense of smell and no pain either, what I had left with me were just my inner thoughts. I could hear people moving around the room more clearly now, it was the doctor instructing the nurse with my daily schedule. Though I could not see anything but I could fairly well imagine the hospital room, had seen it a lot of times in the movies with all the instruments, green curtains, white sheets and the drip by the bedside. I always thought why we had white sheets in the hospitals universally why not black? They would last longer, white sheets get stained easily. Maybe black signifies death that’s why it’s shunned, but is it not the white sheet you are wrapped in when you make your final journey?

'Well doctor how long is this stage going to last,' I heard my friend Ram ask the doctor.

'Let’s go outside and speak,' was the reply.

So finally I heard a known voice, it gave me some inner strength that my people were around me and it will not take long for my parents to arrive too, how will they bear this shock?

More of my friends had gathered by now, I could hear their whispers? where? when? how? Now what? will he? These were the basic lines of thought going through everyone’s minds and lips.

Family members started pouring inside the room soon after, my uncles and aunts, cousins, sisters, everyone had the same questions on their lips, there were tears, short sobs, withheld emotions, what else could they do. The heart wrenching moment came when my parents arrived, I heard my mother wail on seeing me, she had to be taken and persuaded outside the room by my family, I could not imagine her pain and I did not want to also, a mother’s heart always bleeds to see her child in suffering, even though the child would never actually understand that.

I wanted to tell them badly, it was not my fault to have caused them so much pain and misery, its just fate, I could not even cry. The ordeal lasted for a few hours and finally my mother was pacified.

I do not even know whether she touched my forehead or held my hand, I was blind and numb.

After a few hours everyone started leaving one by one saying their goodnights. My family and Ram were staying back at the hospital but no one was allowed to be in my room as per the doctor’s instructions. My parents also bid me farewell for the night and promised to be by my side first thing in the morning.

The voices slowly died away and silence prevailed, I could hear the ticking of the clock, circling of the ceiling fan and a slow beep coming from some instrument. Was I breathing? I was not sure of that too. Will I live again?

My mind started floating down memory lane; I found it a good opportunity to trace back my entire life once again. Even if I lived on or not, I could still cherish the moments one last time before departing. I saw myself as a small boy growing up, going to school, the fun filled days, college days and finally graduating to become a man ready to shoulder responsibilities, destined to be a part of the life cycle like any other normal human being. The sweet memories of childhood, the innocent pranks, fights, love affairs, friends, family, times of poverty and luxury, jobs, destinations, failures, successes, all passed through me one by one, some brought smiles, some tears.

I felt overwhelmed in the end, I was always thought of as a trouble maker, and people were happier to keep me at distance to avoid trouble. According to them I was one who had no goal in life, no plans, running from one place to another, one life to another; but walking down the memory lane, seeing everyone today and hearing their words from the bottom of their hearts washed away all the prejudices that existed, a dying man never lies, he becomes more strong than ever as he has no fears left.

I saw my entire life go by in one night, the journey so far had been a wonderful experience and by the time I finished reaching the present, I realized I wanted to live more.

There were so many things to be done and undone, I could not leave before saying thank you to a number of people and sorry to some. I still had to spend some time with my family; there were still many moments ahead to laugh and cry together for, I needed some more time to find love, learn to give and sacrifice.

Whatever I had done and achieved so far seemed miniscule to what still lay ahead, I just wanted some more time.

My eyes started opening slowly, I could see a bright white light ahead of me, I knew the time had come to go but I was not ready, heaven is a beautiful place but I wanted another chance to live in the right way and become worthy of a berth there.

I felt my mind slowly leave my body towards the light, I tried holding back.

I did not want to go but the power of God is supreme, it kept pulling me towards it. I stretched both my hands ahead with all the strength I had left and tried to pull myself back inside my body when suddenly with a swift jerk I sat up.

The air conditioner was humming noiselessly, there was darkness all around. I was sweating profusely trying to catch my breath as I came alive again, slowly I rubbed my eyes and started to gather my senses.

“Is it a dream?” I questioned myself looking around and trying to find my feet on the ground.

“It was a dream,” I said laughing with joy while parting the curtains. I was in my room.

The orange sky welcomed me with a cool breeze providing solace to my excited mind, the birds were chirping noisily heralding the start of a new day, people had started moving on the streets getting along with their daily routines, a pack of street dogs had ventured out in their search for food so that they could survive for just another day, the beggar had taken his usual place, on time for business.

Everything around looked alive, I was alive with another chance to fulfill my destiny or just dissolve in the human cycle, who knows...