Untitled

Today
In the unusual hours of Sunday morning, Janakiraman knocked my door, although it was open. He came to get the toothpaste, as he customarily uses mine.
‘Karthik, why you are lying down on the floor?’ He took the paste, applied on his tooth brush and continued to talk. I didn’t respond as I can’t.
He came nearer to me, as I didn’t reply or even breathe. ‘Karthik, what happen’? He checked my pulse, and in a few minutes of initial diagnosis, he shouted ‘Koushik, where are you’?
‘I am afraid, Karthik commits suicide’ Janakiraman cried. Soon the news spread to all of my friends, Hostel and college authorities. They were shocked to hear about my suicide.
‘Yes, he is no more’, the medical officer came and officially confirmed my death.
My friends and the college authorities were able to trace out a few evidences: sleeping tablets, laptop which was switched on, with an untitled notepad, and mobile which I was holding. They removed the mobile out of my gripped hand and found out that I received a last call from Avantika.
Two persons in the room looked restless. They were Koushik and Janakiraman. I can able to sense the trepidation of their hearts!
**************
Two Days Before
‘Hi Koushik, Many more happy returns of the day’ Avantika wished.
‘Thank you, Avantika’ Koushik is delighted to receive the wishes from her.
‘Today we will be getting Solid Mechanics paper, do you have any hopes?’
‘Are you kidding me?’
Avantika, with her beautiful smile, wished him again and they left.
It was one of those unfortunate days for all of us. All of us flunked in Solid Mechanics paper. But Koushik and Janakiraman were very happy. Usually, they would be singled out, but all of us accompanied them by failing miserably. They started to walk and broached the post dinner talk.
‘Avantika wished me today; you know ‘Koushik boasted; his thoughts were completely about her.
‘You have to treat me for this’ Janakiraman demanded.
Koushik tried to change the path of conversation as soon as he heard about treat.
‘Glad that everyone is flunked today’, Koushik said.
‘Yes Koushik, I am equally happier to see our enemy, our topper, Karthik fails.’
’ But, everyone likes him’ said Koushik
‘That is why, GOD has sent us both – to have enemies like us who can able to torture and make him bad’.
Their footsteps halted before the Karthik’s room as the conversation developed. They were surprised to hear my unusual loud voice.
‘He is in a call; He must be having a girlfriend’, Janakiraman started to predict. They both started to overhear the conversation.
I sensed someone were standing before my room and eavesdropping my conversation. Angered by that, I opened the door and shouted at them. I never shouted at anyone and I was known for my composure. But, the heated conversation that I had in my call made me to vent my anger on them. They were clearly startled!
The next day, two persons came to my room, masked my face and started to beat me. I clearly knew they were Koushik and Janakiraman, who were beating me up!
******************
2 Days B4
‘Hi Karthik, what you are doing?’ Avantika called me.
‘Nothing to do’.
‘Are you worried?’
‘For what?’
‘Because the topper flunked for the first time’
‘No, Not at all’, I said. I got another call. ‘Avantika, I will call you later’. I disconnected before hearing her reply.
‘Where is the money, you said you will be giving it today’, said the caller at the other end.
I gave him toothless response as it was my mistake; I failed to give them borrowed money on the stated date. Sooner, the conversation turned very contentious. I started to shout during my call. It was during that time, when Koushik and Janakiraman tried to eavesdrop my conversation. I disconnected the call and continued my outburst on them. On witnessing the situation, Ramasamy, who stayed in my near-by room, came to pacify me.
‘What happen Karthik, I never seen you blasting anyone’, he tried to understand the reason.
I wanted to disclose to someone the mental trauma that I had been undergoing.
‘Someone stole our department fund which was kept to organize our technical event. I suspected some of our friends/workers would have taken. I had no time to investigate as the event was a few days away. Being the secretary of the function, I had to find alternatives to conduct the function. So I borrowed the money from this gentle man. I planned to repay him from the extra money that we would get in sponsors. But, things didn’t go as I had planned. Now this man blackmails me that if I fail to give him money before Monday, he will visit our department and say that I have looted the department fund and also his.’
On hearing the story, he paused for a moment, and said, ‘Don’t worry, Karthik; I will arrange the money for you’. He tried to console me with motivational words. I thought Ramasamy was a little eccentric, and a few people would call him ’Psycho’. Nevertheless, I felt relieved after speaking to him.
After a few hours, Avantika called me, ‘Karthik, you said you would call me?’
‘I was a little busy’. Though I want to tell her the problems that I had been facing, I was not able to reveal her for the simple or complicated reason!
‘Do you know why I called you?’
‘Why?’
‘You never understand’ said Avantika and added, ‘I got a new boyfriend –Koushik, today is his birthday’.
‘Nice to hear…..’ the call automatically got disconnected, thanks to the low charge in my mobile.
*************
The Next day
On Monday, a day after my death, Professor Venkatachalam called upon Avantika to enquire about my death. She was considered a prime suspect in my death.
‘Avantika, what exactly happen, why Karthik took such a stupid decision? Even now, I am not able to believe Karthik would commit suicide for silly things’
Avantika wept, and said, ‘Sir, I don’t know anything. I was speaking with him on that day. He didn’t speak for some time as he usually does. I thought he was busy in his work and so I disconnected the call. He didn’t tell me anything about the problems that he had’. She again cried. While they were having the conversation, two goons came to the professor’s room and enquired about me.
‘Karthik borrowed seventy thousand from me. He didn’t give me. He is a cheat; he has looted even your department money’. One of the goons grunted.
The professor tried his best to defend me even after my death and promised to pay him money in two days.
After they left, He understood that I would have faced with the financial problem, and he said, ‘Karthik could have told me. One valuable life is gone’.
Avantika looked at the professor, ‘I too think the same!’
*****************
The Day Before
Just after Koushik and Janakiraman beating me up in my room, I was eagerly awaiting for Ramasamy. It was eight in the evening; he called me and said, ‘Karthik, I am not able to arrange the money. I am very sorry’. Though I was clearly disappointed, I started to think of alternatives. I tried to rejuvenate myself. I decided to take up the matter to the Professor Venkatachalam, who always used to support me. He knew me well; I should have spoken to him earlier. I switched on my laptop; I opened the notepad; I started to write down the points that I need to speak to the professor.
In a few contemplating minutes, Ramasamy entered the room and again apologized.
‘That is okay, Ramasamy’
‘What you are doing’.
I told him about my alternative plan.
‘You are not going to achieve anything by speaking to the professor’ he gradually raised his voice; he deleted the text that I wrote in my notepad.
Angered by Ramasamy’s sudden doubled-faced actions, I said, ‘What is your problem, why are you doing this’.
He didn’t reply.
I continued to write despite his protest.
Finally he disclosed his real identity which I had been unaware of. I was shocked to hear that.
‘Because, I am the one who stole the department money. Karthik, I excessively love myself; everyone has to speak about me; I don’t like people who garner more attention than I; I started disliking you, as you are the center of attraction for everyone, and So, I wanted to trouble you in some way’
‘You, Ba**d that was a f***g thought’; ‘I am going to reveal it now to everyone’.
Immediately, He gave a heavy blow on my head and he took the number of sleeping pills from his pocket and made me to swallow. I resisted, fought but finally was subjugated. All of the pills, one after another, responding to the calls of inertia, dived into my digestion tract. Ramasamy removed the text that I wrote and left the place.
After sometime, Avantika called me. It was my last call with her. I was in my last minutes of my separation from this heavenly planet.
‘Hi Karthik…’
‘Hi Avantika…’ despite my drowsiness, I continued to spell her word for the last time.
‘Do you feel sleepy?’
‘Yes’
‘Do you understand why I am calling you?’
I gently closed my eyes. I died after sometime!
************

The Last Pages

This story is about Venkat, an aspiring film maker. He was one of those who was longing for identity in the film industry. He was passionate, witty and straight-forward. He decided to make a short film that would set as good paradigm, if it comes good. I would plunge into his thoughts to make you clearer what he sets forth.

I believed that the short film I was going to make was very significant in my film career, and that Story should be the cornerstone of my films. Acknowledging my view points, First, I approached one of the eminent story writers, Parthasarathy, whom I adored and revered. I too stayed in the same apartment where he stayed. I went and met him, explained my plans of directing short film and expressed my obligation. He said, ‘Generally, People won’t give importance to stories even in full length films, ironically, why do you want it in short films’. ‘Because, I value stories’, I retorted. He evinced his agreement with his cheerful smile. ‘As you know, I have written numerous stories on assortment of topics. You can select it depending on your choice’. ‘Sir, I want a fresh one. I want my fellow viewers to experience the novelty in everything they see’, I blended my assertiveness with the obligation I made. He too agreed and said he needed three to four weeks to concoct.

Even though Parthasarathy was veteran, he was constantly updating me about the theme and progress of the story. I felt proud of myself for having associated with him in that project; I wanted to be circumspect as I didn’t want to misappropriate his humbleness. Days went by. My two weeks of reverie got over. I was expecting a call from the writer. Parthasarthy’s wife, Parvathy, called me and said, ‘He is not well, and we are taking him to his native; He wants to inform you’. More than my plans got shaken up, I felt worried for the gentle man. After a week, I was informed that the Parthasarathy died in his native, after the doctors failing to identify the dormant illness. All of his friends, associates, fellow readers were in deep bereavement. We cried for someone who had influenced our lives through his creative, expressive writing; the tears those were obscure but carried special meaning
I tried to come out of the shock, and I started to think of alternative plans. I called up my close friends, who were part of film crew. As they advised, we decided to adopt his existing writings. Personally, it was a forced compromise, nevertheless, I decided to work with fervent enthusiasm. Parvathy knocked my door. She brought bunch of papers and said, ‘This is the story you asked him to write’. I took the papers instantly and started to read. At the end of my reading, I found that the story was not complete. I evidently knew since the writer was giving the regular updates, and he had an ambitious plan of writing the climax out of the way. But the story that Parvathy gave me was ended abruptly. My friends advised me to accept the story and suggested that we could extend the story based on our line of thoughts. But, somehow, my conscience didn’t agree to that thought. I politely gave away the papers to Parvathy and declined the offer.

Next day, Parvathy called upon a few young writers, who had been working with Parthasarathy, to extend the story and demanded to write an appealing climax that would enamor the readers. Then, upon their completion, she took the completed story and informed the regular publishers, who obviously had great respect for Parthasarathy. But the story had been vehemently rejected by regular and many other publishers, and Parvathy was accused of dishonoring his husband. At last, after her impudent and desperate efforts, Parvathy could able to find a publisher, who was an unestablished and novice in publishing. The Publisher wanted to make a mark in the industry by publishing the writings of eminent writers and wanted to achieve fame apparently. Parvathy was elated that she would be able to make money out of nothing; otherwise, she would have discarded those valuable writings. Next day, Parvathy received a call from the publisher. The publisher said, ‘We lost a couple of pages. We are sorry’. She screamed, ‘I had only one copy’. The publisher made a false pretense and disconnected the call.

During those dramatic incidents happened, I was busy in preparing for the shoot, by adopting the famous story of Parthasarathy. Someone knocked my door. ‘Are you Venkat? I am Parthasarthy’s friend; this is the story Partha wrote in his death bed. He wanted me to deliver it to you. Unfortunately, I was held up in my village’. I took the story and read it till the end. I didn’t need any anecdotal evidence to prove that was the real offspring of Parthasarathy, as I felt the style and writing were so unique that only Parthasarathy could bring forth that kind of creative art. However, I didn’t understand why the writer didn’t give it to his wife, though I didn’t like to meddle into those affairs. To me, He was like an angel, delivered the message of GOD, and went away.

The eighty pages of the book were comprehended, understood, savored and recast into thirty minutes of short film taken in twenty four days. At the end of the shoot, I was not sure how others would like and embrace it, but, I was happy and satisfied.

Entrapped

I was standing at the city’s famous boat house. I was there, as many used to flock there, which forced me to bend my plans and visit there on one breezy evening. The avenue was crowded as expected. Admired by the cool weather and the interests of the people, I gently pushed my steps forward towards the ticket counter. There was a wild dissonance in front of the counter, as people were confused to choose among the travel ride options: there were assortments of options available – with names like Shark ride, crocodile ride and many more. I never had a habit of contemplating too much for a simple or a complicated thing. Going by that unwritten and preposterous rule, I went in front and purchased, ‘One deluxe ride’.

After purchasing the ticket, I waited anxiously near the lake. The lake water swayed away softly and helped my solicitous mind to reclaim its calmness. And my turn came - the boat for the deluxe ride arrived. The boat was polished, clean and sophisticated. At a cursory look, it didn’t look like a boat. It appeared to me like truncated Volvo bus moving on water. I entered inside with lot of excitement. The boat could be able to accommodate only ten passengers. Behind the every seat, there was an oxygen cylinder tied to breathing sets. ‘Crazy guys’, I said to myself. The boat was an awe inspiring sight! I was delighted that I had made a wise choice of selecting deluxe ride.

The boat started to move; thanks to timely start by the driver. For the next twenty minutes, it was period of unremitting excitement. I enjoyed the cuteness of two year old child,sitting beside me, who was enjoying just like me. I motioned my fingers across the window glass to feel myself and palpate the after-effect of drizzling rain. Exciting moments went by. It was then, the signal appeared; the marquee of text appeared on the lookalike computer screen. The text appeared, ‘Get ready with Oxygen cylinders’. I was confused and fainted. Again another instruction appeared, ‘The boat is going to move downwards’. Befuddled by the continuous stream of events I swiftly looked how others were trying to safeguard themselves. With the demonstrative help of a few people, I could able to connect the oxygen cylinders. It was an unusual sight for me, to see all the ten people carrying oxygen cylinders at their back. And as promised, the driver drove the boat vertically downwards.

The journey had become an ‘Under Water” trip. Then gradually, I was able to witness the few of the deadly species of this planet. The big lizard – crocodile heralded its arrival with the few of its companions; Bunches of crocodiles, with their long tails, swarmed around the boat. A few of them came towards me. One of them with its black broad eye ball kept looking at me like a bank manager who was trying to collect unpaid interest amount from his customer. The unfortunate customer happened to me. Then Shark with its bulgy curvy body came to the party wagging its tail. Fortunately, only one came. Then the text appeared, ‘This is the place where you can see crocodile and sharks at the same place’. ‘Who needs this information’, I thought. Everyone was able to appreciate the fainted ambience, including the little child (sitting beside me); but I was completely fainted. I was not able to understand why went there. The bank manager appeared to approach me. The crocodile, by his long V-shaped snout, struck the glass window. The glass stated to rupture. The mammoth made an unsolicited entry into the boat, breaking the glass window into pieces. The crocodile looked at me again; it didn’t give any moment to escape. It plunged into me and I was locked between its jaws. At that culminating moment, I was not able to ingratiate with the bank manager! I was crushed. The blood stated to bleed. I gently closed my eyes.

I opened my eyes; I realised that it was my wildest dreams. I appeared to be restless as if I had gulped one litre of lake water. I recalled the entire dream as I always believe dream has a meaning. Even this one drives me the point, ‘If I don’t know where I want to go, for sure, I will be entrapped’.

The Interview

It was a dull evening for him after an exhausted tea chat. He lay on the bed and started to dream. The dream was disturbed by the rattling of the room door by his class mate – Ashok – the placement representative of the class. ‘We have an interview tomorrow’ Ashok announced. Sooner, the room was swarmed by his class mates. Anxiety gripped him. ‘Hey Kushal, do you understand what I am saying’ Ashok shouted. Kushal didn’t get placed till then when dozens of companies came in and ninety percent of his classmates had been selected already.

‘Hey idiot, why didn’t you tell me before? I haven’t even washed my formals’ Kushal wailed. ‘But have you prepared anything?’ asked one of the friends gathered. ‘Nah... Because of this bullshit, I am going to lose my interview’ Kushal grumbled helplessly.

‘Ok let me get your formals ready...it is seven, if you study four hours from now, brushing up the topics from thermodynamics and solid mechanics, I think you can clear it’ Ashok advised and added ‘you have a high chance of getting through as many of our guys won’t appear for this interview, as they didn’t like it’.. Motivated by Ashok words, he decided to start preparing from that peripheral moment. ‘Kushal, let us go for dinner and you could start up fresh’ his roommate asked. Kushal didn’t have a habit of saying ‘NO’ even the expected answer was obviously ‘NO’. Invited by the roommate’s offer ‘Yah... let us go’ Kushal acceded.

It was the Sunday dinner and it was the most famous for the non vegetarian fleshy foods. Though the savoury and hygiene of the food was always debatable, the people would register their presence, and wait inquisitively for the chicken briyani to be served. Kushal went there with thoughts about the interview, but as soon as he entered, he was received with the smells of the fried chicken. ‘OMG ... Today is Sunday. I completely forget it!’ Kushal remarked. ‘This is the same dialogue you said in the morning’ one of the persons sitting nearby ridiculed. ‘Yummy... it is very tasty...’Kushal said. He ended his thirty minute dinner with his usual grumpy burp and tried to depart. He had a habit of having postprandial chat at least for ten minutes. But it went for thirty minutes. The time was eight. He had only three hours to prepare for the next day interview. Yes he wouldn’t be awake after eleven – somnolence would entrap him by then!

Kushal came inside the room and started to study. The advertent study went for some thirty minutes. But sooner he was again perturbed – it was a message from an unknown number with his favourite message tone ‘Boss You have a Text message’. It said, ‘Hi Kushal’ with two happy emoticons. He tried hard not to reply. But the two happy emoticons at the end of the message from an unknown number made him to reply to it promptly. He replied, ‘Hello... who is this? Btw I don’t have your number. I think I would have missed it...’and continued. He wrote three lines asking for the identification and sent it. And He turned over the next page in the book as if he had completely read the previous one.

In a few seconds, the second message from the same number which said, ‘Kushal, I am Swathi from ABC College. I have seen you when you performed dance in my college. I got your contact from my college cultural organiser team. Shall I chat with you for sometime’ again ended the message with two happy emoticons. On receiving it, Kushal’s face brightened. He thought he could take a break from the engrossed study for some time. He continued to message. Both exchanged their sweet and enchanting messages which ran for the next three hours and spoiled the Kushal’s preparation time. Kushal sent all the messages with loads of happy emoticons. And the conversation ended at eleven and surprisingly by Kushal as he felt sleepy.

The next day, the new day and as promised, Ashok kept the ironed formal dress on his table. Kushal started to get ready, groomed and departed. It was at the university placement cell office, where the written test and personal interview was going to take place. Ashok, standing in front of the building, smiled and greeted Kushal, ‘All the best’. Sooner he was called for the written test. To Kushal’s bewilderment, questions were tough and but at the end to his surprise, he got selected. He was delighted. He reminded about Ashok who said the previous day, ‘many were not attending...’ In the thirty minutes, he was called for the interview. The interview was pretty normal. The interviewer was like a distant old friend who as if he had lost contact with Kushal and put forth his questions in answerable way.

Interview was done. Results were announced and Kushal got selected. Kushal was very happy and appreciated and hugged by Ashok. Kushal took the mobile and sent a message to Swathi and expressed his joy of getting selected. Immediately he was replied, ‘Hey idiot, this is your room mate -Baskar. I have changed the number yesterday’. Kushal was devastated on seeing this. Kushal replied him with all the bad words that he came across. Even if I try to say euphemistically, that would still be bad one. Frustrated Kushal was waiting for any formal announcements from the placement cell regarding the offer letter.

‘When will we get the offer letter... any idea?’ mellifluent voice came from the beautiful girl, standing nearby, who too got placed in the same company. Kushal tried to recuperate from the previous shock and answered, ‘No idea, I am also waiting for that’. ‘I am Swathi from DEF College; I came here through off campus’. Kushal was apparently amused and introduced himself with blatant confusion. The confusion soon headed to interesting conversation. They had a lunch and tried to depart with their staying smiles and they exchanged their phone numbers as the acknowledgement of the conversation they had and they really departed...