The Murder

With a bag in one hand, and a tray in another, a man walks to one table in the corner of the café. He puts the bag next to his chair, the tray on the table, and settles down. He’s quite relaxed.

What we now hear is all him thinking, hence, as voiceover.

Chalo good. First assignment within 3 months of getting the private detective licence. Not bad. Now I just need to figure out a way to charge more. Then, within a year, I should be able to pay back that bastard all his money.

Anyway, all that later. Let’s focus on this case.

He picks up a briefing document with some highlights here and there. So, a murder has happened in a fine dining restaurant of the 5-Star hotel, The Zodiac. Nice. I will have to go there and check it out. Fine dining restaurants kaise hote hai pata bhi nahi. But anyway, it was in a restaurant.

Next page. And the victim is Mr. Naresh Shetty, famous businessman-turned-politician.

Next page. And we also know that this hotel is the front end of a mafia don. Very high chances that it is his work, but it could very well be that don’s competitor. Or it could be somebody else altogether.

List of the victim’s business operations, and his other activities. These guys could have a lot of internal issues that could have led to a revenge of some kind.

No, this is not going anywhere. My suspect list is going to be long. I need a new starting point.

He takes a sip of the coffee. Eeeek! Too bitter.

“Excuse me, could I have some sugar please?”

A waiter hurries to him with a tray. He keeps a dish on his table, then fumbles, and drops the sugar sachets outside the dish, on the table itself.

“Sorry sir.”

Why did he fumble? I am not even in a hurry. Hey! What if the staff of the restaurant was involved in the murder? What if it is a detailed, planned setup? A murder so perfectly carried out would need a lot of planning. Hmm, let’s see.

A bite from the muffin.

He looks around. Let’s assume this is where the murder happened. What could have happened before it? How would people have communicated to each other without the victim being suspicious? Can the bitter coffee or sugar sachets be any code?

We see the man at the counter. He is just observing people around. He notices this person and nods to him. What if the hotel manager is involved? Maybe his nod means something. Does he behave in the exact same way with all customers?

He observes other staff around. What if the shooter was given a hidden message by someone who interrupted him?

We see a guy cleaning the floor. What about a waiter? Or someone else. Could he have said or done something?

Maybe someone from the kitchen. We see the girl operating the coffee machine. A little bit of different taste could mean something.

We see the cup of coffee. Or even a strand of hair in the food. It can be used to attract the person.

We span the café with other people enjoying their coffee. What if it is not the hotel-owner-cum-gangster who killed this guy? There can be other people using the place, right?

We skip from a couple at one table, to a family of 3 at another table, to 2 businessmen at the third one, and an old man sitting alone at the fourth. What if some people came in as customers? They would look very casual. We don’t notice much about other people in a restaurant. They could make a lot of gestures and actions.

God! So many motives, so many possibilities.

He realizes that the coffee and muffin is over. This is going to be a tough case to crack.

He notices a menu on the table next to his. He picks it up, and scans through the top page. Anybody can be a suspect in a murder case.

We see different items and their prices. Rich people have so much money! With poorer people all around them, they would have so many enemies. And still everyone wants to become rich!

He smiles at the irony and opens the menu to the first fold. It has a note that shows lots of circles, and one marked X.

“Excuse me, sir.”

By the time he looks up to see the waiter, the waiter has snatched away the menu, and the note inside it.

“Sorry sir, that’s a faulty menu. We have made some changes, and this one is not updated. I will get you another one.”

Now that’s weird! Why would you have a note to point out the faul…

His memory flashes back to the note. That layout of the circles seems similar to the tables here.

He notices the ‘reserved’ sign on the next table. And the one marked X is that table over th…

He looks around; sees some staff and people at a couple of tables observing him from the corner of their eyes. He thinks of something, and starts packing his stuff up.

He bends down to open his briefcase. As he does it, he holds the metal latch of the briefcase and tilts to see the table next to him – the one marked X – and sees a gun taped to its bottom.

Holy shit! There is a murder about to happen right here.

---

This was the 4th story I wrote for an office contest.

The other three are here:

The Proposal

The Dilemma

Life in the fast lane

Life in the fast lane

We follow a guy entering a café with a briefcase. He almost slips at the entrance, shows an angry look at the guy cleaning the floor, and curses mutedly.

He looks around desperately, and notices quite a lot of crowd. In one corner of the café, he spots an empty table. He hurries to the table, puts his bag there and hurries back to the counter.

From his point of view, we see the counter getting closer and closer. We also see a man with his back towards us. Just then, the man turns around saying ‘thank you’.

The man is carrying a tray with coffee and snacks, and he bangs into our guy, spilling coffee all over his shirt.

“What the hell! @#$%^ Watch where you are going yaar.”

While the guy is apologizing continuously, the man curses him further. He inspects the stain once again and rushes to the restroom to clean up. While he is still wiping the stain with a wet tissue, his phone rings.

He looks at the screen, “F**k”, and answers, “Hello sir. Haan sir. Nahi sir. Woh mera lunch baaki tha sir, toh yahan ek café mein… nahi sir late nahi hoga, bas fatafat… haan sir, pakka sir… No sir, I won’t keep anyone waiting. Ok sir, bye, sir.”

Some more cursing.

Finally, it looks ok. He comes out of the restroom and rushes towards the counter. We see a girl politely offering him the menu, but he brushes it aside.

“Nahi, yeh jaane do. Ek coffee de do… aur khaane mein kya hai?” He looks at all the items displayed, and points out to a sandwich. “Woh sandwich veg hai? Ek de do. Nahi garam mat karo, aise hi de do. Nahi ketchup nahi chahiye.”

We see him constantly tapping his foot and fidgeting with his phone, looking at the time, while the girl goes to the coffee machines, and makes his coffee.

He collects the sandwich and coffee in a tray and walks towards his table.

Once there, he gobbles down the sandwich, and takes a few sips from his coffee. He again looks at his watch, and realizes he doesn’t have enough time.

“Oh shit.”

He decides to finish his coffee on the way, collects all his stuff, and walks towards the door.

He has almost exited the café, when he realizes that he has not paid for the food. He runs to the counter and says, “O suno, paise dene baaki hai. Bill de do, please. Kitna hua?”

The girl at the counter, confirms something on her screen and smiles back.

“No sir, you don’t have to pay anything.”

“Huh!?!”

“Yes sir, your food was free. In fact, we will have to pay you something.” The girl says, with a wide grin on her face.

While our man gets confused as to what’s going on, she pauses to enjoy the moment.

She speaks up after a moment. “We are celebrating our first year anniversary this week, sir. And you are our 1000th customer in this week. Because of this, you win a cash prize of Rs. 2 lakh. Congratulations, sir. Please wait a few minutes here. I will just call the manager.”

The man stands there, frozen. It takes a moment for it to sink in. And then he breaks into a big, joyous smile.

He takes a deep breath and looks around. He notices the man who had spilt coffee over him, seated at a table nearby. The man notices him too, and mouths a ‘sorry’, but our guy couldn't be angry about anything anymore. He replies with a gesture conveying, ‘That’s ok. No problem.’

A few minutes later, he steps out of the café, and notices that it is raining. He spreads his arms, and steps into the rain with his face up towards the sky.

---

This story is the 3rd of 4 stories I wrote for a contest in my office.

The previous ones: 'The Proposal' and 'The Dilemma'.

The Dilemma

Another story, Samhita and I wrote for the contest in our office.

A young couple enters the café, laughing.

“There, let’s get that table at the back” Shriya said.

“Whatever you say, madam”, said Rishabh (doing a bow, getting a loving hit back from her and lots of giggling).

“What would you have, Shrii? The Irish one or the Jamaican one?”

“I think Irish. And a blueberry muffin. Yes. That is it. What about you?”

“My usual, your boring, cappuccino.”

“Try something different sometime!”

“Woh kya hai na, I prefer sticking to things that I like, for a long time.” Rishabh pulls Shriya closer to him as he says this. Shriya blushes, pushes him away.

“Okay, I will just come from the washroom. You order.” She leaves after giving him a flying kiss.

As she turns the corner to get into the loo, Rishabh very comfortably takes her handbag, pulls out her wallet, and takes out two notes of 1000 rupees.

He then walks to the cashier, starts coughing, takes extra tissues from the counter, and after coughing, throws the tissues and the wallet hidden within the tissues into the dustbin near the billing counter.

He come back and sits at the table nonchalantly, like this is the most normal thing for him to do.

Shriya comes back and continues her excited talk.

“Today is 1st April na, so I had been planning this prank and I played it on Aliya.”

“You girls will never grow up!”

“You should have seen her face after the entire incident. She was so upset.” She kept laughing till the coffee arrived.

They sipped their coffee and savoured it for a moment.

“I have got something for you. A surprise! Yay!” said Shriya.

“Don’t pull a trick on me now. I know it is 1st April.”

“No baba. I am serious. You would be sooo happy. It's in my bag.”

She started searching in her bag. But looked worried and irritated, and started mumbling.

“Not again, Shriya!” Rishabh said in exasperation.

“I can’t find my wallet.”

“I am sure you must have dropped it somewhere. How can you be so careless all the time ya? It is like a habit for you now. Almost every time you do this. You should have some sense of responsibility. Thank goodness I am with you to pay for the bills. Otherwise imagine!”

She started sobbing.

“How could I do it? I had been saving it for today. I had clicked its pic and showed it to Aliya. And now it is gone. I just don’t know when I could have dropped it.”

“It’s okay. I know you love me. Why do you have to buy me gifts? I am there for you na. Now have the coffee.”

She kept searching. She went to the loo to check. Asked the cashier if she had seen anything.

“It’s okay, Shrii. Just tell me what it was. We will go out and get it again. And we will also get you one nice gift. Just to cheer you up. Okay?”

She sat quietly for some time. Everyone at the café look at her with sympathy.

She just opened her phone’s photo album and gave it to him. He looked at it for a bit, and gave a confused look.

“What are these?”

“These are the VVIP passes to the Cricket World Cup tomorrow. I thought we will see it together only if India is in the finals. So I never spoke about it, else it would have gotten jinxed and you would have shouted at me the way you did when we lost to South Africa. I had also got coupons to buy India’s jerseys for ourselves.”

...

...

She was sobbing softly in the background.

He wasn't listening anymore. His eyes couldn't move away from the dustbin at the billing counter.

Could he say what he had done? Or would he miss the chance to watch the finals?

The Proposal

A few weeks ago, we had an internal contest in our office for script-writing. The brief was to write a short story about a cafe. Here's one that I wrote with Samhita, a colleague.

We follow a girl entering a café. She is speaking to someone over the phone.

“If these guys agree, nothing like it. Ok, I have reached here now. Bye.”

She reaches the counter, and talks to the boy.

This is when we see her for the first time. She must be around 22 years old. Chirpy, bubbly kind of persona, with a smile that melts the distance even when she meets someone for the first time.

“Can I speak with the store manager here?”

The boy at the counter nods, and points towards a man standing at the far end corner of the café. The girl meets him and they sit a nearby table.

“Ok. So, here’s the thing. I have been dating this guy for 4 years now. From first year college. And I am now thinking of proposing to him. But I have never quite found the right moment or place.

And yesterday, when we had come here, he told me how he loved this place… the ambience and everything. So now, I want to propose to him this Friday on the centre table out there. He had said he loves that table. So that’s where we will probably sit again, when we come on Friday.

And I want to make it a big thing. So I wanted to shoot it live and put it up for our friends to watch on YouTube. So I would really need your help to set up the place with cameras and mics and all of that.”

“I … I am not sure we can do that, Ma’am. I understa…”

“Oh c’mon. Imagine how much publicity your store would get. This place will become, like, the cool place to hang out for college kids and all. And, more than anything else, it would mean a huge lot to me. If we do this here, it will be a great surprise for him. So please, please, please!”

The manager thinks for a moment and nods, “Ok.”

“Perfect. I will come tomorrow and set it up. Thanks a ton!”

Before we know, the girl is already on the phone. She is literally jumping up and down with excitement. “Hi! He’s agreed. Now, listen…”

It’s Friday. We are right in the middle of the preparations. It is afternoon time, and the café has only a few customers. We see 4 girls – one of them is our protagonist. She is talking to the manager. She is much more enthusiastic, and a little more nervous than how we had seen her earlier.

“Ok. We will need some kind of hidden place for us to record the whole thing. No, we will need some other room. Is there another room?”

“We have a small store room.”

“Yes! That will be great!”

“Now, where do we put the camera?” She points to the picture frames on the walls. “Do you think we can attach to one of these frames. No, it won’t give us a good picture.”

The manager comes up with an idea. “We can put a vase on the table.”

“Oh yes, good idea. But then, we will have to put a vase on every table. Sheena, buy 12 vases and come back.”

We are now in the ‘control room’. The third girl, who seems the most comfortable with the gadgetry, is trying to understand the recording equipment. “Do you know how to start the recording?”

“Call Basu. He would guide us best. We should have called him here itself.”

“Oh please, not him!”

“Oh wait! This is it. It’s recording.”

A moment of silence. The other 2 girls huddle up on the small screen. It shows the POV of the camera from the vase. Yay!

Our protagonist suddenly realizes that this is going to be it. She gathers herself.

One of the girls says, “Babes, just 1 hour to go. Go get ready.”

“Yeah, you need to get ready and call him to meet you outside. Here, I have a face-wash. Also, just do up the hair a bit.”

Mann yeh sahib ji, dekhein hai sab ji, phhir bhi na samjhe ishaare
Her phone's ringtone.

She checks her phone. It’s him! “Think of the devil and the devil calls.”

“Awwww. Love, love!” Giggles everywhere!

“Sshhhh.” She answers. “Hey! I was just thinking of calling you.”

We just hear a voice-over. “Hi babes. I actually called to say that we won’t be able to meet today. We have got this outbound training program and I have to leave today. Very sorry, baby.”

“Huh! What nonsense! You promised you will give me time today. Why can’t you say no to them?”

“I want to… but I can’t. You know how my work is.”

“I don’t care. You have to have to meet me.”

“I am really sorry.” A pause. Change of tone. “Ya, right away. Ok listen, I will call you later. I am just getting into a meeting. Bye baby. Bye. Bye.”

Silence in the tiny room.

“We put in so much effort ya.”

“Shut up Sheena! It's ok babes. It will happen on some other day.”

Just then on the TV screen. We see a guy's face entering the frame.
A guy has taken a seat on our table, and we are looking at him through the camera hidden in the vase.

“I love this place. Especially this table. It has a different feeling. Strange, they have added a vase here. Anyways, so I was saying, we are free for the weekend. Let’s go some place.” He's the same guy talking to

We hear another voice, a girl's.
“You should tell her.”

“I will. It is just that I am waiting for the right time. We have been together for a long time. She might not take it rightly. I don’t want it to blow out of proportion.”

For a moment, we switch from the TV screen to our protagonist sitting in the cafe's store room. She is shocked at this guy’s insensitivity for the relationship.

The girl’s voiceover continues. “It is not a proposal. It does not need such planning. Just call her some place and let her know.”

We are now no more on the screen. We are facing the guy at the table itself.

“I am not sure. I don’t know when it is a good time. I can’t tell her right now!”

We hear footsteps, and our protagonist joins the couple at the table.

“Why? Why not now?”

Living a life

"Hey. Hi."

"Hi."

"Sorry I got late."

"No, that's ok... It's not that I was busy." [nervous laugh]

"Oh come on, sweetheart. I got stuck in an urgent meeting. The stupid client called at the last moment and I had to mail him that document."

"No, it's ok. I mean... I am sorry."

[Sigh] "No, I am sorry. It's just that it's a bit tough these days with the project."

"I am sure. Must be really stressful."

"Yeah quite a lot. Anyway, I don't want to talk about it. Let's talk about something else."

"Why not? I would love to know more about your work. Tell me na. How is the project going?"

"Sheena, please! No!"

"Arey, you are the one who says I don't want to know about your work. And today, when I am asking you, you don't want to talk!"

"Sheena, please try to understand. You are already so weak. It's been 6 months that you are in this same hospital room. And this new treatment is demanding too. I don't want to burden you with my office work stress. Why don't you take some rest?"

"No. I don't want to rest any more. That's what I do all day anyway. Why can't you understand? I need some change of routine... I am bored of my friends' gossip too. I need something new."

"Gossip!?!?"

"Sweet hea..."

"You want me to talk about my work so that you get more gossip!? That's what my work means to you!? I work all day, and then, come here and spend time with you so that I feel like I am home, and this is what you tell me? Great! What a life!"

...

...

Tears roll down her eyes. "Akash, yours is the only life I get to live."

Irony

On and off, I keep clicking pictures that tickle my funny bone.

Here are some recent discoveries.

This one informs a Domino's Pizza lover, that the carton is not suitable for oven use... but puts the information at the bottom of the carton.

Here, we have the Municipal Corporation of Greater Mumbai persuading Mumbai-ites to keep Mumbai clean... using the Comic Sans font! Is there a deeper message in there?

I wonder what the guys at the TV Channel would think of this birthday-candle maker.

Friends

"Hi."

"Hey hi. How have you been? It's been such a long time that we chatted."

"Yeah, quite some time. I am doing fine yaar. How have you been?"

"I have been doing good too. Life has become hectic, but I am better this way."

"Hmm, good to know you are fine."

"Hmm. So tell me. How come you called? Any special news?"

"No, nothing special. Actually, I was just feeling a little lonely. A bit out of place. So thought of calling you."

"I hope all is well. Anything serious?"

"No, not at all. Nothing wrong, nothing serious. In fact, everything's just perfect. Hmm, yeah, everything's fine. As I said, just lonely. It suddenly felt as if I had lost touch with myself. And then, suddenly thought of you."

...

When he hung up, he knew it was the longest chat that he had had in a long, long time.

Look at the Sunset

Just completed reading a book by Paul Arden - God explained in a taxi ride.

It was recommended by a friend, and both of us thought it would be fun because I am a atheist... or agnostic... whatever.

In an attempt to understand the concept of God, I came closer to understanding my beliefs in God. The author provokes us using a simple question, "Look at that sunset. Who created it?" He goes on to say it could be God, or Accident, or Fluke. If you think is a Fluke, then you believe in Fluke. For you, Flukes are God.

Overall, the point being whatever your answer to that question, that's what you believe in. Personally, I think my answer would be "I don't know". And applying the same logic, my God is the unknown.

I think the logic is clever. 'Coz that's what I do, I read up on stuff that's unknown. I surf, search, find, discuss and most of the times the topic is not something that's already known to me. It's something new and different, something I have come to experience for the first time.

What it means, is that like everyone else, I too am spending my time and energy in following my God.

Absolutely hate to admit it, don't I? :)

"I am not letting that man get away."

'Right now, just calm down.'

"Calm down? Are you crazy? It's because of him that my brother is no more. He was only collecting nectar and returning home. Yes he is the owner of the garden; in fact he should have been thankful if nothing else. Instead, that b**t**d tried to squat him."

'That's what humans do to bees.'

"Well then, even my brother did what any honeybee would have done. We sting!"

‘But it's fatal for us. There’s no point blaming the man.'

"Whatever! I am not letting him get away with it. I am going take my revenge right now. Get out of my way."

'Please. Don't make the same mistake your brother did.'

This one is dedicated to a very dear friend. What he shared one day inspired this.

----

I hate that guy even today. Had he allowed me that one chance, my life would have been so different today.

'Just a sec. Let me make a call... Hi, I will be home a little late tonight. No, nothing serious. Just chatting with a friend. Yup, ok. Love you too. Bye... You were saying, your life would have been different today. So was it like a different career or something?'

No, not really. Maybe I would have still wound up in this same job. But it would have been different.

'How?'

I... I don't know how to say it. Happy, that's the word. I would have been happy.

'Wow, really? Something that important to you?'

Uh huh. Well, it meant to me a lot at that time. He was a painter. And you know I wanted to be one too. I was really good with arts at that time. So I had gone to him with this painting of mine - it was one of my best paintings, an expression of rebellion - and I asked for his opinion.

But maybe he was in a bad mood or something. He didn't say one word of appreciation for the painting. He just trashed it completely. And on what irrelevant stuff! 'You have not used your strokes properly. You seem to be confused. This is the most horrible colour combination I have seen. It doesn't have any harmony to it. It is just plain random. This is not what one calls art.' Gosh!

'That bad, eh?'

Yeah! I mean, ok fine maybe it wasn't technically correct. But since when does a brushstroke dictate what a painting says? I could never hold a brush ever again after that incident. Painting was one thing that made me feel complete, you know. After that, it just felt like something went missing from my life.

'Hmmm... actually yeah, we never saw you participate in college fests and things like that. We thought maybe you broke up with your girl or something… Haaaah…. So anyway, what do you do these days then?'

Just work. I am on my own. I work as a researcher. You know, all the history and personal profiles stuff that you read about in the newspapers? That's me. I collect that information.

'Hmm-hmm. So does it make you enough money?'

Oh yeah, lots. You see, whenever these people in the media want to run a story on a famous person, they don't have enough time to actually start from scratch. That's where I come in. I provide the info, and get paid for it.

'So you would be knowing a lot about a lot of people.'

Well, not everyone. My expertise is that of the filthy rich people. I have all the information on most of the new celebrities, who rise from nowhere and suddenly become darlings of the world. Like this new Mr. Brook. Celebrated artist. You wouldn't believe, nobody knew him less than 2 years ago.

'Yeah, I am always amazed with these guys. I wish I could become rich so easy.'

No no no... He didn't make it easy through life. Every rich man wants to buy his sculptures now. But did you know, he was thrown out from his school. His ideas were so rebellious at that time, his teacher disowned him and refused to help him get clients. It's only now that he is seen taking credit for training Brook.

'But that's just one incident.'

No, he has led a tough life for more than 8 years, he's only achieved fame, like, in the last 3 years or so.

'Oh really? So tell me something... how many rejections did you face?'

‘He doesn’t have much time left’, he thought and sighed.

He was right. He ought to be. It was not the first time he was seeing someone die, definitely not the first of his kind.

‘Relax. You mayflies don’t’ live for long. Almost all of you die within a day.’

‘I know.’ He was unnaturally chirpy for someone who is just a few minutes from dying.

‘That’s how we are. We are born, we grow up, we mate and we die; all in a day’s life.’

‘Don’t you think one day is too short? Haven’t you ever desired to live longer?’

‘Why no! What would I do for another day? It would be terribly boring!’

‘I have been around for so long. It’s never been boring for me.’

‘Yeah, I hear you turtles live for almost 200 years. How old are you?’

‘I don’t remember exactly. I should be about 160.’

‘Wow! That’s a lot of time. What do you do with so much time?’

‘More or less the same that you do in a day. But our life isn’t as exciting or upbeat as yours. We are relaxed. We think a lot. We spend a lot of time mulling over things.’

‘Oh I see. So what would you do if your life was just a day long.’

‘Oh that would be so hurried. I will have to get a lot of things done in a single day. I would be so drained of energy. No, I don’t like being so tired and flushed. Probably that itself would kill me. I think I would like to live longer.’

‘But you don’t know how long you will live, right? What if today is the last day of your life?’

It couldn't hear the answer. It was dead before that.

‘Hmm. That’s something I have never thought about. I must think about that. There’s a lot of work I have to do before I die. What if today's the last day of my life?’

It was.

I want to start off with something easy, she said.

No, then I think the flesh and all will make you feel yucky. You should try this other option.

I am not sure if that’s a good thing to start off with. You know, it isn’t the same as the rest of it. It’s not like it will give me a taste of the actual stuff.

So what do you wanna do?

I don’t know! It’s the first time for me. You are a regular. You tell me.

I told you, but you are not sure of either option. What’s exactly on your mind?

Umm… ok. How about this? You first taste it, see if it is prepared right, so that I get to experience only what is considered standard, not something that's badly made.

You know, it’s quite simple to make. You can’t go wrong with it. With the other one too, you can be sure that it’s the standard coz that one doesn’t even require any preparation.

Are you sure I should do this?

Well, you said you wanted to. I have never forced you, I never will.

Yeah, but I don’t know if it’s right. What should I do?

It was a chicken or egg situation.

He punched the thick mattress on his bed. It still hurt. A shriek echoed in his room. If this was freedom, he thought, it would scare his guts to find out what bondage was like.

What happened to me? I was never like this. I could paint well. Heck, I painted well. And now I can’t. I just can’t. Am I the same guy?

‘No, you are not,’ He smiled. ‘I trapped you… finally!’

That wasn’t possible. He was not the one who could be contained. Not by anything. Not by anybody. Not even by Him.

‘That’s the trick,’ He said. ‘I can’t bind you; not physically I mean. But your mind… ah, that I can! Just one thought, one small germ of a thought, and I don’t have to do anything else.’

Was that it? Was it all that was stopping him? No, it can’t be!

‘It isn’t. Denial is very much a part of it, an important one.’

And he couldn’t take it anymore.