by Sudesh Sinha
He looked at his watch it was 10 am." Waiting for an unknown guy is always a pain in the ass. He may keep me waiting and he may not turn up ", he thought. This anticipation made him restless. He then looked at the script, his friend Raj had given him, and wondered," Given the urgency at which he wanted it to be delivered, I think that man would surely turn up". He looked around. The people looked irrelevant to him. Waiting outside a busy station like Dadar tests your patience. Everyone was in a haste to reach their destination- Men and women rushing to catch the cab to reach their workplace, teenagers running to make it to the first lecture of the college. Blaming himself he thought," Why did I have to promise Raj to deliver his script? Waiting is something I hate and now look, here I am waiting for a friend's acquaintance." His friend had briefed him about his acquaintance.' A 35 year old man in yellow checks shirt, black trousers and wearing a black Ray-Ban aviators would pick up the script from you. This script is very important as it is my best work till date.' Raj hoped to deliver the script himself but the sudden cardiovascular attack his uncle suffered made it his second priority and he had to rely on him to deliver it.
Waiting was never his pastime and it had already been twenty minutes since was standing at the very spot Raj had asked him to wait. He put his hand in his left pocket took out the black packet of Marlboro Gold, opened the box and took out one cigarette from the seven cigarettes left. He had already smoked three after reaching the spot. Putting the brown edge of the double filtered Virginia tobacco cigarette into his mouth, he checked his right pocket for the lighter but in vain. The feeling of losing another lighter made him search all his pockets and at last he found the inflammable gas in his upper pocket. Lighting the cigarette he took one deep drag, looked up at the sky and let out all the smoke he could. Suddenly a voice entered his ears. An old man was constantly arguing with a bus driver for the bad ride he had. Although the bus driver argued that he could do nothing about it as the roads were fully pothole ridden but the old man still didn't budge. All this reminded him of his bachelor neighbour who came to his doorstep for every itsy bitsy issue he had like the music being loud, the noise when utensils fell or when the smell of food which accidentally burned reached his window. A few days back the neighbour even came complaining about the effects of smoking. Just to divert his mind away from the frustration, he thought of reading the script. He randomly turned the pages until a bookmark appeared. The line read
Chapter 3: Lust
"Sins have been portrayed as a negative power since ancient times. But isn't it just an opinion? Good and bad, positive and negative are just mere perceptions. Lust is portrayed as sin but its also a good quality if you step into an optimist's shoes. Lust is the fuel which propels us towards our goal. We lust for money, for sex, for power and what not. We all have it somewhere in ourselves. All we need is to convert the negative to positive. We need to use our lust and work on it positively as our power. Lust is power. "
The last line got stuck in his head. Something he could connect to. Something he always pondered on. Just then he saw a shadow falling on the paper. He looked up and saw a man dressed in neatly ironed clothes. The exact description of the man he had to deliver the script to, came into his mind. And there he was standing in front of him. He assumed Raj had described his appearance to the person and hence he came directly to him. Closing the script he handed it over to person he was supposed to, saw him drift within the crows while he walked away.
The road that lead to his place reminded him of the life he was living- A jobless graduate who turned to freelance teaching. He loved his job but only if it was permanent. Orphaned a couple of years ago, he had to stay with his brother who was four years elder to him. Losing his father at childhood, the only person he was close to was his mother. A clerk in a local bank, she did not earn much but made sure her sons got all that they wanted. Although she died of a cardiac arrest but he knew the main culprit was his brother with whom he currently stayed. His brother, a lazy corporate slave earned a good salary but used to spend it on himself. With time increases inflation and his mother could not run the house in the little amount she earned. All this led to frequent feuds between them which eventually proved fatal. He made him do all the household chores and himself did none. Since his mother's death his brother always wanted him to get a corporate job and he was never interested in giving up his freedom and becoming a corporate slave. He preferred doing the thing he liked something that provided him job satisfaction and not something which would give him money but no job satisfaction. He remembered all the fights he had with his brother including the one he had a day back after which his brother slapped him just because he answered back. He took out a cigarette, lit it and smoked it completely until the filter started to burn and went home to have a good refreshing sleep.
The next day he woke up at his bedroom in a pool of blood. All drenched himself but he wasn't bleeding at all. He silently walked towards the basin and brushed his teeth, washed his face as if nothing had happened. He felt fresh the feeling an insomniac has when he has had a complete sleep after a span of many weeks. He opened the door of the bathroom and saw the corpse of his brother with his throat slit. He gave a small grin. He walked towards the hall, opened the cabinet and took out the second CD of the Black Sabbath album Reunion. Inserting it into the music player, the system started with thumping music. He started head-banging and singing along with every song that played until his door bell rang. He could hear it as the song had just ended and there was a stream of silence. Wondering how long the person standing outside was ringing the doorbell he opened the door and it was his neighbour standing in front of him, asking him to put off the music. Just then a song started playing
The midnight hour approaches
The killing chill takes over him
His victims will not know when he appears
The lust of deaths possession
Will over -take his psycho mind
He won't be happy till he smells their fear
He is the Angel of Death
He looked into the black pupils of his neighbour and let out a small grin.