- Fifty-five words or less (A non-negotiable rule)
- A setting,
- One or more characters,
- Some conflict, and
- A resolution. (Not limited to moral of the story)
Who is He?
The main reason for you being on this post is for the answer to the above question.
Over the past one week, some of you painstakingly followed a tiresome story. I have provided answers to all your other questions but I didn’t reveal the main thread, His identity. He tortured, He thought, He entertained and He died. He might have earned some sympathy in the end, but read on to know the identity of ‘He’, the entertainer.
For all those who have guessed the crux of the story, this revelation may come as a bit of a shocker. But please post your wild theories in the comment section of this post!.
Back to the point,
Who is He?
I s He a relative to the Girl?
Is He an enemy to Her father?
Is He a serial killer?
Is He Her enemy?
Is He Her ex/current lover?
Is He some lunatic from the underground?
If your answer is any of the options above, I should say you are wrong.
He can be anyone. A teacher, prophet, priest, father of two children, your sweet looking neighbor next door, brother, lover anyone. Every male in this world with his own quota of hormones and body parts can be ‘He’. He is nameless and faceless. He has no caste, creed and nationality. He has only two distinct characteristics. Sex and a fickle mind. Or as in most cases nowadays its Sex and sex.
Every morning the newspapers carry some news about some wayward fucker pouring acid on his wife, a loved slitting His girlfriend’s throat open, teachers utilizing their ‘Girl’ students for the understanding of nature’s physics. The female species has become a sport for the greedy male race, and they have also become the scapegoats for media to earn money or let’s say more TRP’s. Many men force their barbaric atrocities over the poor and mute ‘Female’ species of today’s India, or let’s put it as the today’s woman.
Men see women as a commodity. They see women as wonders of Geometry but do not consider them to be marvels of biology. I am a man, Yes; I too ‘look’ at women, but in levels of decency. What ‘pleasure’ do ‘Men’ get from raping innocent beings?
‘He’ was an entertainer a post ago, but now ‘He’ is the centerpiece. And now, ‘He’ is the only one who can make us think. Think in terms of respect, mutual, for the ‘Female’ species, one of the most delicate pieces of art made by God.
This post might seem like a joke for the bloggers with a clean conscience. But somewhere down there, deep in the world of concrete jungles, there is a ‘He’ who is smirking at the post, the truth of life. Nameless and faceless.
I stop here, I leave the rest to you, to decide.
Firstly, apologies for those who thought that this post was a dud in terms of an entertaining factor. My sole aim from the start was to deliver a moral sans any morality with some high rates of mortality.
For those who haven’t observed, I have framed a new narrative approach for the previous four parts of this series, in terms of the narrating angle.
The first one was narrated from the perspective of a Bird sitting on a pole and viewing the events happening around. The narrative was fixed and it was mostly static.
The second one was through the eyes of a lizard on a wall, flexible yet only with limited frames in its sight.
The third had a Fly as the narrator, completely flexible and also followed a shaky story telling technique.
And finally the forth was from the eyes (if any!) of a bacteria in the scene of the accident, which eventually would feed on the dead bodies.
So go back and check the narrative styles again J .
And a BIG thanks to all those who have gone through this series from the start, Vipul, Mou, Pra, Shilpa, Choco, Shruti, Zoya, As the mind meanders, Shankar, Indian Pundit, Anamika, Roshmi Sinha, Thousif and finally Sonali (the mysterious blogger, who popped out from nowhere and showed enough interest by going through all the posts, one at a time, Thanks!). Apologies to whose names I have missed, please do remind me J . Do leave your precious comments!
Note: My blog has been nominated for the Indiblogger of the month award for the month August 2009. This month the category is “Original Literature” – Short Stories. Vote for me if you feel I am eligible J . And finally those who do not know of Indiblogger, click here to register and get more traffic for your blog and also loads of experience. Cheers!
Click Here to Vote for me! (You need to scroll a bit to find my name though!)
A Few Months Later..
“Back, Back, Back… Wait… Stop!”
The lorry came to a halt. Its gigantic structure was overshadowed by the huge building next to it. The lorry was painted in a plethora of colors, but the evil looking blood red dominated the eyes and little patches of yellow added some relief. It was well decorated; it looked more like a bride straight out of a B – class Indian movie. The driver got down from the monolithic body; he walked towards his helper, who was standing beneath the shade of the building beside.
“Ruthless Killer Down! Down!”
“Hang him to death or it might be your sister next”
The outsides of the court were fuming with the mob’s anger.
*Beep* *Beep* *Beep*
The room was filled with the monotonous beeps of the funny look machine. She slowly opened her eyes, Her vision was blurred, and then she realized the harsh reality. “That night”, and She knew that her left eye would never be open again. Just a sterile gauge and a pirate eye band would debar the void of her eye hole from the colors of the vivid world. She was vision impaired. She turned her head towards Her left, to find a large stainless steel tray. The image in the tray looked like a ghoul full with sterilized gauge and blood smeared bandages. Reality hit her hard, She understood.
The shouts echoed in His ear. The mob tried to break the human barrier and the media persons were shooting in wild madness. He didn’t feel like crying, proudly he lifted up His head, and sported His usual evil smirk.
The Police shoved him into the old rusty Jeep, chained to the last bone. And the Jeep whirred to life after a barbaric jolt.
Carefully She removed the IV drip from her hand. A little blot of red appeared on Her skin, but She didn’t bother. She walked towards the large windows plastered to the walls. The afternoon sun blazed in the sky, invisible to her. When She walked towards the window, Her muscles twirled and Her insides battled with brain asking it to reverse its signals. But the brain was not in control of its master, but in the control of The Creator. Her face ached badly, acrid stench bellowed out from Her bed ridden body. She opened the window, to see a seven storey’s below, and at the bottom a tarpaulin clad truck. She jumped.
“I gotta pee” protested He.
“No!” came the stern reply from a plastic faced Police officer beside Him.
“Then I would have to pee here, right on your pants” and he got ready to enact his act.
“Stop!’ The officer commanded and the Jeep came to a halt.
He got down and another constable followed. And suddenly He took to the heels, and ran for his life. Gunshots echoed the void fields around but in the commotion He didn’t hear the horn.
Crash of a skull, squashing of a body and a minute second later. The truck splayed in the middle of the road, throwing out a body from its top. The tarpaulin covered truck.
The two bodies lay atop each other, beheaded in pools of blood. The visible stretch of the road was smeared with blood and parts of brain matter. Two distinct parts lay in opposite directions, their heads. Their bodies entangled in an inseparable position. And their hearts tied a knot within themselves. Leaving a morbid feeling to the world outside. Their brains opposed but their hearts attracted. In the end, the hearts won. Love over lust and infinity over wrath. They lay inseparable. Nameless and faceless.
[To be Continued..]
[The last part of this series would be out on this Tuesday, don't miss it!. And do read Shankar's post, "My Formula For Love" here, surely his best till date! And finally to the blogger who posts comments under the pseudonym "Zoya", I am unable to reach your blog, do something :D]
A frantic father called him ten minutes ago, howling in pain that his daughter was in danger. He gave an up market address which left him no other choice than go to it. “High Class Girls”, he thought, “It must have been some cockroach the poor soul has seen and She might have shouted for help”. He had this gawky feeling in mind that the girls of these days were pampered on a rich scale, making them helpless in the most trivial situations. He ran up the porch and knocked the door. No answer. A light breeze blew, displacing a few odd leaves off the steps.
“Constables”, he called and motioned towards the door asking them to barge in. A loud thud followed by a thundering sound of breaking glass pieces shook the house. An iron tripod stand lay across the doorway, and distinct pieces of glass spread over the marble floor glistened like diamonds in the sky. Water was all around and an unwelcomed aroma of fish surrounded his nostrils. As he stepped inside a wriggling fish caught his sight and before he could warn his counterpart’s one of them stepped on it only to slip and land on a bed of glass splinters. The then glistening splinters turned red in a moment displaying their inhibition towards blood. The blood’s rich color was diluted by the stale water changing it from a crimson to water color red.
“Fuck”, he thought, unknowing of the even more vibrant displays that lay ahead.
The sirens whined outside the house. Like school children left amok the policemen spread around the house. His ears twitched, in a quick jerky motion He pulled Her body away from the sofa into the indiscreet bathroom nearby. There was a commotion outside the door and he could sense it. The door banged open with a shrill sound of glass breaking. His ploy worked, the fishbowl he placed against the door performed its task spilling its content and making the job difficult for the police. Then He heard a loud groan followed by splits of laughter. “Laugh”, he thought, “Laugh till you see Her pathetic body you morons”.
The lights didn’t work. “Fuck”, he thought. “Constable, bring me the flash light, he screamed”, and a moment later there was a movement in the last lines of the police battalion. “Darkness is the mother of misery”, he thought. “It Is darkness that invented crime, darkness is what still many of us fear about”. He lay a calculated step ahead. Suddenly, he felt it; he felt a leathery substance underneath the sole of his shoe. He bent down to take a look. It was firmly attached to the sole of his shoe, and when he touched it he knew that the house was under the control of a cold blooded murderer. It was wet piece of skin, it was cartilaginous and it had a distinct outline. A nose. This startling discovery helped him to see the uneasy presence of a red liquid all over the floor. He was about to puke. “Const.-“, and the house vibrated under the wails of a human for the second time.
The police were under the veils of darkness. “Darkness”, he thought, “Is my mother, without whom this sacrifice would have been unsuccessful”. He had to utilize his mother’s service that night. And He waited for the correct moment. The overly inquisitive Police officer surely didn’t know his limits. He had to use him as bait for his escape. Without further delay he stepped out. He hid in a dark corner of the room, like a jungle cat camouflaging before it hunts it prey. There was a small crushing sound; the sound characteristically heard when one stomps over a cockroach. He smirked in happiness; the Officer stepped on her nose. And like a feline hunter, jumped forward towards the inspector.
The sinister looking sharp end of the knife cut its way through the Inspector’s jaw from the side and made its way out from the lower end of the jaw. It stood firmly in position and the Officer wriggled in pain. He kicked the handle of the knife with his leg, sending the blade deeper into the Police officers mouth. The constables were rooted to their own positions. He stood up and was about to take an intimidating position when the gunshot shook the house. A moment later, He was twisting on the floor with a bullet right through His solar plexus.
“Where is my daughter?”
“She has undergone extreme trauma and is currently in a state of shock, she lost a lot of blood and there are bleak chances of survival, moreover there is a developing infection in her sinuses and her respiration has become very edgy, nothing can be said as of now”
“No!, please doctor, please save her!”
Special Correspondent: A girl was brutally tortured by an unidentified man around 12 o’clock in night yesterday. She sustained severe injuries and now is in a critical stage. The suspect also assaulted a Police officer who came to the scene of crime with a butcher knife. Amidst high drama, another patrol force which happened to be in the area at that time came to the rescue by shooting the suspect in the torso. The suspect received moderate injuries and His condition was said to be stable. The Police Inspector lost a hard fought battle, and he passed away in the wee hours of today. Feminist organizations protested for the early execution of the suspect.
“Only if I stayed back, as she asked”, thought his father.
A small package fell of his pocket breaking its contents;
Her birthday gift.
[To be Continued..]
[Do check Shilpa Garg's blog, "A Rose is a Rose is Rose" as she is one of those few energetic bloggers around and also the most random blogger I have seeen till date. She has completed 99 posts as of now, wishing her a hearty 100th post :) . Thanks for being a wonderful blogger Shilpa!
Correction: The dialogue I have mentioned in the last post, "Guns for show and knives for a pro" is from the movie "Lock Stock and Two Smoking Barrels" but not from "Snatch" as mentioned earlier.
The fourth part will be out on Saturday!
Her father was surprised.
“No answer?, Not even for one of the calls?”, he thought.
There was something in the night which didn’t please him, there was a kind of deathly aura lingering around and above all he was unsure about everything. Confused, he called a taxi and murmured something to the driver, and the taxi zoomed away into the road and it disappeared.
She switched on the TV. There was nothing entertaining in it, but at least it was the only thing in the house through which she could see the happenings of the world outside.
“Werewolves”, the voice in TV boomed, spilling her heart out of its original place. And before she could change the channel there was a blackout. Her heart started thumping wildly. Strange sounds of the night filled her room, and her mind reached a virtual instability. Shivering, she started her journey to the kitchen and illuminate herself from the dire horrors of the night.
He gained entrance through the open ventilator in first floor of the house. He walked slowly through the darkness without making a sound. His heart was working at a frantic pace and he could hear it. After a month of surveillance on the house, moving around was like a breeze. Quietly he went down the steps making sure that he wouldn’t make noise. His blood began to become acidic, his insides were burning and he was fuming with sweat. He could smell Her. The pungent phosphorus smell of the matchsticks filled the room for a moment, and she became visible. She moved away from the kitchen with a candle in hand, and to Him she reminded of Florence Nightingale, “The Lady with the Lamp”.
Her father knocked on the door. There was no answer, after a brief minute or two, there was sound from the inside and the door opened.
“Sir!” the man stuttered, “What a surprise!, please do come in!”
“There is no time to come inside, why didn’t you come to the meeting?”
“Which meeting Sir?, I was not informed of any meetings tonight!”
“What, you were the one who called me four hours ago and said that there is a meeting now, what’s happening?”
“No!, there is n meeting and moreover, my phone was stolen today in the morning, there is no possibility of me making a call”
The scream filled the hollow night.
“Who are you?” she screamed, and before she could utter another word a powerful fist hit her on the face sending millions of neurons to work at a time releasing, pain and blood. She fell down with a thud. The candle fell down extinguishing itself and making Her plight more pitiable.
He took out his phone, and placed it on the sofa next to him and started playing a song.
Her face ached, there was numb demon occupying her mind, she couldn’t see in the darkness and her ears could sense only heartbeat when the song started playing,
“Tonight will change our lives
It's so good to be by your side
But we'll cry
We won't give up the fight
We'll scream loud at the top of our lungs
And they'll think it's just 'cause we're young
And we'll feel so alive”
She felt a tingling sensation on the arm, before she could realize it pained. The pain in her head and the one in her arm fought for superiority. The song faded into oblivion as the only thing she could feel was pain.
He took the small knife; it glittered in the small light coming through the window. He lifted her tender body and placed Her tiny head into his lap. A warm feeling passed through his gut. Her body played with his mind. It was losing control and he had to stop it. He took her slender hand. It was pearly white, the color of his knife. He carefully slit her arm, superficially. A dark red liquid fought its way out, he gave freedom to it, and the blood was trapped inside her body since the past 22 years. Streams of blood ran through Her sleeve, staining her clothes in the process.
The blood on her skin looked like red rubies embedded on a white marble tomb. She shrieked in pain, and the whole room was filled with only her screams. His face gleamed with pleasure and that of physical superiority. He put his hand inside his jacket’s pocket to reveal a sinister looking butcher knife. “Guns for show and knives for a pro”, he thought. Carefully he put the razor sharp edge of the knife on her face, and with one strong pull, he peeled her nose from its location, forever. She twisted in pain, and blood sprayed all over His face, but his strong persona over powered Her and she lay motionless. And with one heavy thrust, he put the small knife, now smeared with blood right into the center of her, Eye.
Pain, pain and pain. It was all over her head, She couldn’t feel anything else. The fight for superiority ended, leaving her in a state of prolonged trauma. She lost senses, thought and freedom, she tried to wriggle but She was held snugly in place. She prayed for mercy, but it was unheard. Before She could react a sudden jolt of pain shook Her head and before she knew She passed out.
The blood from Her eye came out like a majestic fountain, first as a strong rush and a moment later it was only like a trickle from the eye. The sight pleased Him, He was smiling and his face was beaming with pride. Suddenly, an electro punk sound came and there was a long scream and then She passed out.
‘The phone”, he thought.
Her father was tensed. He called his daughter and all he could hear was a long blood curdling scream and silence all over.
“Hello Police”, he said, before directing his taxi way home.
[To be Continued]
The Line, "Guns for show, knives for a pro" is from the movie "Snatch".
The third part will be out this Wednesday!]
“No!”, she screamed, filling the room with a callous echo, one which reminded of a lively death.
“Please, leave me. Please, I beg you, please!”, she pleaded for mercy, pleaded for freedom, freedom from the vast streams of pain, currently piercing her body like thousands of red hot silver knives. Her voice soon became over shadowed with intense pain, it was then she knew that she could never be normal again.
A few hours ago:
“I’ll be back soon sugar, I am sorry that I’m unable to stay back with you”.
“Papa, can’t you stay back for today? Just today please, it’s my birthday tomorrow if you forgot”.
“No sugar, I can’t stay back, it is important for me to go today, anyhow I’ll be back by midnight to give my angel a sweet surprise!”
Saying this the father left the house, unmindful of the dangers that would consume his daughter later that night.
The phone rang, blazing out some gibberish sounding electro punk sound out of it. She immediately grabbed the phone, it must be ‘him’ she thought and longingly she answered the phone.
“Hello, Is it you?”
There was no reply from the other side except for a chilling swishing sound, one of air at turbulent speeds hitting the mouth piece on the other end.
“Hello!’, she said again, but she received the same answer as before and,
There was a perpetual wave of darkness outside. The insects working in the night shift made a racket, which made the man standing behind the veils of darkness smirk evilly. There was a kind of acidic hunger deep down in his heart, hunger which he was going to satisfy soon. Set with the deep smile, he moved ahead, stealthily.
“It will all be over in an hour or two”, thought her father, “I’ll make tonight the best of her life, at least, I hope so”, and thinking that he entered his office, only to find it as deserted as a graveyard at its hallucination prime time. Midnight.
Puzzled, he reached for his phone.
It started as a small drop through the hole. The stainless steel shower head had the reflection of the girl covered in the pristine dress designed by God. The small drop went on to become a steady shower and little droplets of water oozed out of the tens of needle pricked holes. The lifeless shower was having the view of its lifetime, and the water tasted the elixir of the Girl’s beauty, both hot and untampered. The tiles had her slim image flashed on their shiny faces. Every little object in the bathroom had a spectacular view. She reached for the towel, the mean object which was going to distance the natural beauty of her slender body from the vile looks of the evil world outside. The inanimate objects agreed unanimously to privy the exotic display they just witnessed.
HE could see her silhouette from the point he was standing. The geometrical wonders of the infinity raised his testosterone levels. A surge of manly hunger pierced his veins; he lashed out his weapon, a small knife which shook under the tremendous force of sexual suppression. He slithered towards the house, which in a few more moments was going to witness an intense battle, the separation of yin and yang, physical death and a dark abyss.
(To be Continued..)
This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 1, the first edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following http://blog-a-ton.blogspot.com/>Blog-a-Ton.
The fellow Bloga-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton are Arjuna, Saimanohar, Dhiman, Vipul Grover, Avdi, Daisy Blue, Sid 'Ravan' Kabe, Shankar, Shilpa Garg, Bharathi, Ranee, Ranee again and Pawan. Click on their respective names to read their posts on The Cream and Scum of Blogging. To be part of the next edition of this online marathon, visit and start following Bloga-Ton.
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