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A to Z Challenge: Wajood-The Identity


Letter W for Wajood is written as part of ‪#‎AtoZChallenge‬: Blogging from A to Z April Challenge. It’s heating up now! It’s climax and guarantee for heart-pounding action.

In Hindi, Wajood means identity.

Wajood-The Identity

I twirl at the surgical light in the operation theatre. A rehash of memory plays like a movie flashback to the struggling days in Mumbai when the security pushed me away from the gate of film producers with lathi and flung my portfolio on the ground. I picked my trampled and crushed pictures smeared with mud and footsteps. The imposters posing as agents who fled with my hard earned money in lakhs after promising to get me roles. I slowly sink in coma.

TV channels are flashing breaking news and newspapers are printing Stop Press. Doctors and PR agencies are giving sound-bytes to confirm, “It’s with deep regret that we announce that superstar Akhil Kumar has succumbed to bullets and has been declared dead in the morning. The doctors tried their level best to revive him but fate had it their way. We must say that he was a very strong patient and fought till his last breath.”

The mafia lord, Bhai Saab is celebrating my death inside the hotel with a huge party and alcohol flowing. After all, he is safe and no one can expose him now. He is cuddling to the singing sensation, Sanjana his new muse who has no qualm dancing to his tune. He rules forever on the film industry.

The new reigning Queen of the film industry is performing to a sizzling dance, ‘Yeh Raat’ to entertain the underworld and Arab guests making the most powerful deal that will shatter the city. A storm hits the party like a tornado when shard of glasses swirls like an earthquake, shaking the hotel’s foundation. The glass designed structure splinters in various directions with force and the hotel lobby is crumbling into dust when a car violently cracks into the wall with thundering force. The glass separation that sits between the lobby and the VIP lounge splits into the air as the car flies inside the party.

The powerful engine revs up and crush everything on its way; the guests, bar, and alcohol on display.

The high flyer party stands as a mute spectator to automatic gun firing from the automatic car and the mafia inside the hotel. Human corpses are lying cold on the floor where blood and alcohol makes a deadly combination of human cocktail.

Two long hands stretch out of the car window and grabs the new crowned Queen and Sanjana by the hair and on the spur of the moment, two shining black shoes surfaces out of the car with the door wide open. A gun is fixed on the head of the sexy sirens.

The mafia lord’s mouth is wide open. “How can this be possible? We killed you?” The guests are running for their lives shouting, ‘Bhoot! Bhoot! Run!’ Akhil Kumar laughs hysterically, “I am dead to the world but not to you. After all, I resurrected to send you in the heaven of hell. Bhai Saab! It’s your last party on earth and your bimbos will give you company. Don’t worry.”

I pull the trigger on the temple of the Queen of acting and my once torrid companion Sanjana, whispering into her ear ‘Salirophilia’. Both are flung down and their inert bodies lie on the floor, swimming in blood and expensive alcohol.

I wink at Bhai Saab. In the last 24 hours, DCP has given me a new wajood (identity) that would change lives forever.  Akhil Kumar is no more and the world is mourning him. I don’t remember him. “You are no longer a superstar. Wipe them all. I will clear your name. As you are set on the new mission, television channels will air the real face of Bhai Saab,” the DCP told me in the hospital. “You will save every kid exploited by the mafia and corrupt faces.”

I slowly got up from the hospital bed and promised to DCP, “I swear to you that duniya ki koi bhi tank at Mujhe rok nahin Sakta aaj (No power in the world will stop me from finishing them). In a fling of seconds, I was out to get them, driving the bulletproof and specially designed car for the mission. I have left behind showbiz and wear my new identity, far away from everyone. A strong sense of peace engulfs me. Today, bodies of evil souls will fall. Bhai Saab takes a backward step. I saunter in his direction.

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Rave and Run


This post R for ‘Rave and Run’ is written as part of #‎AtoZChallenge‬: Blogging from A to Z April Challenge.

Rave and Run

The party is in full motion in the farm house, are cut off from city life where hordes of celebrities, politicians and college kids are swarming to the tune of music. I wear my most expensive black shirt at the party hosted in my honour for sweeping every award.

Somehow, I feel out of place and uncomfortable seeing scary faces. My head is swirling and whirling in motion and I am experiencing a nauseating feeling after I sip the drink. A few women are making a pass at me and twirl their tongue out, inviting me openly for an orgy. Women and men are walking naked and tripping on the dance floor.  I am furious but powerless. The loud music feels makes my head splitter and spin like a volcano.

“What the hell is happening?”, I shout at Bhai Saab and Meena. She winks at me, “Take me for hire, baby.”

“Drugs and all that shit…I cannot accept this and leaving right away. I will expose both of you to the police.”

Bhai Saab taps my shoulder, “You see this guy in the grey suit. He is the dreadful underworld don and that dude sitting with the two college girls, is the new police commissioner in the city. Go and complain. Sunny boy! You are in a labyrinth. You will be the first one to be arrested and we’ll kill you inside jail. The parcel that stoked your lust story with Meena! Remember. It contains drugs that slowly kill the nerve of a youth every second. And the document you transport for me every now and then. Supari!! A small token to contract killers.

“What?” I shockingly react.

Meena poses her hand on my shoulder, “You are a criminal like us. Do you have a choice? Bhaisaab is the king of the underworld. Before we forget, you gotta act in few films financed by us, the underworld.”

My eyes are dry and my hand is shaking. My lip is burning after Meera twirls some white powder, push them inside my tongue and bends her head on the upper part of my jeans, sliding her hand inside me.

My head is spinning. It feels like a jab landing straight into my chest. I walk away from them when I hear cries inside a dark room. I pull the door with all my might to discover a horrific scene.  There are kids crying inside and a cute, teenage girl grabs my hand, “You are the love of my life. I love your films. Please save us for the uncles and aunties wanting us to do bad things.” The innocent children are shrieking and shaking with fear.

I am trapped in a labyrinth but it’s the time to atone for my sins. Woe betide me! If it means, that I am gunned down, so be it. I will not let them cast their ugly shadow on innocent children.

I roll a joint and inhale deeply. The bottle of whisky is rolled on the floor. I fling it on the door and unscrew the bottle with my tooth. Tickled by my instinct, I spill the alcohol and bang, I pull a gunshot, throwing alcohol bottles splintering in the air in a flurry and thick smoke engulf the party. It’s dark everywhere and people are coughing where some are choking to death.

The high flyer rave party is turning into dust and smoke is turning into fire, ravaging everything. I throw myself into the dark room where the cries of the children are getting louder. A metal pole is falling and I stand with my back pressing against the wall, pulling it with all my might to shield the children. “Break the damn window and jump,” I snarl.

The girl pushes the children out of the window, with all force, with my back pressing on her. My hand is soaking with blood and burning as I push the pole. I carry her in my arms, facing the blaze flowing in our directions. We have no time to think about the villains, shouting their lungs out. We throw ourselves out of the window and I hold her close to my chest.

We run along with dozens of children for our lives towards my silver BMW, pushing everyone inside. The car screeches, stumbling upon a pole and gear up breaking everything on the way.

I am driving like a maniac and hear gun shots behind the bullet proof car. They are on our trail. I swerve the car from right to left, colliding with their jeep caught in a flurry of gunshots. The car is rotating from left to right, caught like a sandwich in a ball of fire and I finally gravitate towards my foes. They lose control of their vehicles that cascades in the air, flinging like cricket balls. I zoom ahead at a burst of speed, hitting everything on my way, barricades snapping in the air. I wriggle with the wheel and the car is thrust in the air, rolls upside down and makes a blistering sound. The children shriek.

The car makes a thawing sound as it storms onto the railway track. A fast train is chugging in full throttle. I close my eyes and press hard on the brakes, the car swirls within inches in front of the train that rams it way ahead. I lose control of the car that breaks into a wall.

I hear the sirens of the police and ambulance from a looming distance before I collapse. I am a hero to the eyes of the small children who meekly clap at the back seat. The brand new BMW is in shamble.

 

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‎AtoZChallenge: Osmosis


This post O for Osmosis is written as part of  ‘‪#‎AtoZChallenge’‬: Blogging from A to Z April Challenge.

Osmosis

The local halted at Andheri. I shouted in Marathi  to commuters, ‘Kure Chala’ to wriggle my way out when I almost crashed on a tall girl, twirling with her hair lock and walking at leisure pace on the platform. She grew furious and almost blasted me she stopped in her track with her mouth wide open as if a devil in human form has appeared in front of her.

“Oh!! My…my…what are you doing nowadays?’ she laughed.

I tried to shirk the topic but ended blurting out that I am looking for work.  We exchanged phone numbers and in the flick of time we started dating casually. We held hands in the jam-packed local trains and I often stepped in front of her and flitted behind to hold her by the waist, stealing a kiss on her lip.

We held tightly to each other, our backs planted on the wall at Gateway of India, cusped to each other’s lips, oblivious of the waves crashing behind us and water spluttering on our hair and faces. It felt so romantic and perfect.

We travelled in red-coated BEST Buses and locals, admiring the scenery in Mumbai and our eyes swarming to the old flats bearing stint of mud and decay past the railway. We would sit atop the double decker bus, ambled at Marine Drive and waded its way in the heart of Mumbai traffic . We would laugh and tell ourselves that one day we would own the expensive high rises  and the city, albeit, dining in the expensive ITC hotel.

We plopped our feet in the puddle of water at Nariman Point and water splash caressed our faces, like a sprinkle of timeless romance. We ambled our way, walking a long distance in hand. Her birthday was coming and it hit me one day when I sneaked her diary out of the leather bag she always carries with her. I don’t have cash in my pocket to see her smile.

I stood for hours like a statue at the newly opened department store at South Mumbai, scanning all their moves. After waiting for a while and losing patience, it was time to hit the cudgel.  I flipped my light purse and frustration gnawed on me that like my life it’s empty. I’ve been going dutch for months now.

After all, I am meeting Koyal in an hour and something must be done. I winked at the attractive girl at the cash counter and slipped my purse beneath the drawer. I knew she wouldn’t be able to pull it. I convinced her to let me in so that I can pull it. She stepped aside and soon she became occupied with an old lady haggling over an expensive gold earring. It’s now or never, I thought. My hands are trembling. I opened the drawer in a jiffy and flicked thousands of crisp notes. I looked around when I heard the siren. I was caught on camera. The security guys heckled me out. The owner was livid and called the cops. Three policemen stormed the luxurious department store, armed with guns as if I was a hardened terrorist.

As I was ushered in the police van, I started praying that Koyal shouldn’t know that I was caught red handed stealing money to surprise her. After all, it’s her birthday.  It came as the biggest shock of my life when Koyal got a hang of my crime and coaxed her director to bail me out. I can’t face myself in the mirror, caught in an osmosis of flurry thoughts…shame, sick, guilt and hating the person that I have become.

Love

V