Still Loving You

I am walking towards that door, the very door I like to walk on this very night. The streets are half lit in gloomy shadowed lights coming down from the palatial high rise buildings, built centuries back. The ghosts are everywhere around me, some are whispering in my ears to taste the forbidden fruits infested with insects from hell. The blue dark shadowed windows of the palaces are hiding the courteous female spirits while the ghosts are inviting me towards the unresisting, obscene, formidable sins that head to the point of no return. The streets are smelling that of sweat, blood and melting meat loafs from the rotten mortals who are turning into or turned into ghosts. Being a human being in this ghost infested hell is tough, really tough, if not impossible.

I entered through the door, climbed down the circular staircase towards hell. This hell is beautifully decorated with glistening glasses and mirrors that reflect the misshapen faces of the ghosts. The reddish light coming from the ovens , where some more spirits are being burnt and baked into deliciousness, and bottles full of blood and gold and venom are being served to all. The lady spirits are dancing with their counterparts in a recklessness and the loud music in this dim lit smoky air will certainly make you half dizzy, half psychic, half ghost, if you are still alive.

I took a corner seat reserved for me, being a well known ghost to the king of this hell, I am here to enjoy my night with the spirits I like. I opted for a golden spirit, in a hourglass shaped glass. I want to burn myself in these ovens, just like to be fried into delicacy, into immortal pleasure of dying. I unloaded the whole drink from the glass in my throat. The spirit tried to ravage my throat with it's immense hatred towards the mortals but with pleasant sooth ness to this dead throat of mine. I am feeling better now, hinted towards the ghost to pour me the spirit time and again.

The music died down, the female spirit, who was hinting towards me to taste some of her surprises lost her patience and left slowly. The ghost, that was serving me has also become tired of me. He has put the whole bottle of spirit in front of me, just to help myself towards my end. I am eagerly trying to meet my end either to finish this immortal cursed life to oblivion, to meet you in the next life, my love, my first crush.

Even now I can see your smiling face in front of me, sitting just beside me , dressed in the same white school dress, holding my hand, to help me get up on my wasted feet and head towards the circular staircase of this hell, through the darkness to dawn. You have become someone else's, but I haven't lost you, specially on this very day of your marriage anniversary. The stabbing pain in my heart cannot steal my sweet memories of you. The ugliest thoughts I can think about you, cannot turn me jealous towards the lucky man, whom I have lost you, as you have chosen that destiny. You are the angel of my life, saving me through each of the unforgiving blows from life, until death. Your sweet voice heard, is always murmuring in my ears to save me from all the evils. Your best wishes on the torn letters written long back, are still lying with me, to guide me through every hell on earth, towards heaven. For, I am still loving you.

*** Entry for http://blog.blogadda.com/2010/06/09/first-crush-stories-blogs

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BlogAdda "who dunnit" Mystery contest

With reference to the BlogAdda WhoDunnit Mystery contest at (http://blog.blogadda.com/2010/05/12/a-mystery-fiction-contest-whodunnit).

I continued to think, just like Hercule Poirot may have thought in this situation. I started arranging the clues together. Slowly something started oozing up from my mind.

Both were looking the same, with their identical white outfits. No one can tell who was who other than the bullet-pendant Lila was wearing.

Of course the mis-shapen beads on the floor of the bathroom shows, the bead necklace was hurriedly pulled off from her neck. But, I haven't seen her wearing that all the time, rather Sia was wearing the bead necklace.
The mangled arm-band must have been removed in hurry.
And the open bejeweled case is where I got stuck for sometime, must be something precious, very precious for her. May be the pendant with the bullet or the arm-band.
The cup of tea she offered me was kept beside the bed on a stool just on the way to the bathroom, beside the only chair I sat.

I have started perspiring I can figure out something, something so terribly frightening, I am loosing my breath.

The crumpled scarf beneath the pillow is the weapon of murder. It must had been soaked with liquid HCN that killed Sia, the identical twin sister of Lila.

Lila had put the scarf on her face. She started struggling, the arm-band fell down, mangled. I can still recall when I have last saw Lila, she was not wearing the band.

Sia struggled towards the bed, on the way must have knocked down the cup.

Then Lila must have kept the scarf under the pillow, and reached for the bejeweled case of the cabinet to get the band. She took out the bead necklace and put her bullet pendant on the then dead Sia's neck, for that is how we could have recognized Lila.

But why had she needed to open the case? Oh, must be the identical band Sia was wearing that night. And of course the other bullet necklace.

My heart is pounding faster than ever, Lila is not murdered. She cannot be killed. When Sia came out of the room, it was actually Lila.

She went off and came back through the back door and entered the bathroom. Hurried to take out the bead necklace from her neck, but unfortunately it was torn. That's why the stray mis-shapen beads on the floor of the bathroom.

Then she came out of the room again as herself wearing the second necklace, but after committing such a task she looked withdrawn and anxious.

The ancestral property of more than a hundred crore will totally be her now, in a new facade of Sia. Now she can do the extremely costly required treatment of the "virus" (and it's curable now) and also live a rather happy life Sia lived.

I need to tell it to the police and others, immediately.

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Bachhor Suru (The New Year)

*****
Though it is a separate story, it is actually the sequel of my previous post, so, would recommend readers to read that first! Thanks!
*****
Being the morning of the Bengali New Year, the shopkeepers will have to go to their nearest temple to get their new budget book marked with holy signs written on them. This is the special day for the shop keepers to start a new year according to the Bengali ritual "Haal Khata", the beginning of the financial year. On this very day, there is a puja of God Ganesha and Goddess Laxmi, for the betterment of one's business and the shopkeepers generally arrange a treat of sweets and beverages for their regular customers, specially for those, who pay back the debt's on this very day. They also presents the customers with a new Calendar of the Bengali year.

Malati works as a housemaid in the homes of such two shopkeepers. So, she had to leave early today, even before her husband Sajal and their daughter Sunita woke up. When she was about to leave, Sunita got up and sat beside her. She was going to say something but Malati put a finger on her lips to keep Sunita remain silent. She hurriedly instructed something to Sunita, her six year old daughter and headed towards the door of their one roomed shanty.


It's his dream place. Just as his wife dreamt for days. They have a small hut near the big pond of their's. The pond reflects the trees around it, mainly his favorite mango trees and jack fruit trees, also the coconut trees they have planted. Green mangoes are hanging from the mango tree while dark green young jack fruits are hanging down the jack fruit tree, here and there. He is sitting beside the pond with a fishing rod in his hand. The fishing rod has no wheel. He can see a far and wide distance from here. A vision too far towards the horizon where the river has moved lazily touching their village on her go. A fresh breeze oozing up from the heart of the river flowing through the green paddy filled fields towards their sweet home, soothing him to the deepest corner of his heart. Sunita, their only daughter is sitting beside him for a long time, waiting for a fish to gulp the bait and to get the fish hunting live. She lost her patience, came near to him. Put her small soft hand on his forehead. He cannot control himself, he is feeling dizzy and suddenly the there is a pull on the fishing rod. He hurried to pull it, but it's too late, too late to catch it, it's gone.

Sunita is very happy today as she received a very unexpected frock for her new year's day from her father. The frock looked nice in her eyes. It has a white body with blue stars inscribed in it, and the skirt is glistening with blue lace ribbons. She is so overwhelmed with joy that she started brushing his father's hair softly with her small soft hand, which she never does, for she fears her father, even if he is sleeping.

Sajal woke up. This is not a normal phenomenon. He never dreams, specially this kind of a sweet dream, and of course he is a bit astonished to find Sunita sitting beside him. He felt overjoyed, the day, he recalled is the first day of the Bengali year, the Naba Barsha (New year). He also recalled that he is on leave today. He slowly got up in a half sitting condition.

Looking at her beautiful dreamy eyes and her skinny structure in the old yellow colored white patched frock, and her velvety black curly hair bunched up over her head in a pony tail, he smiled to himself. No, she is not much different from the dream of his, only, she was wearing a nice dazzling white colored frock, with blue stars inscribed in it, just like the one he has bought for her last night.

"Ki vabcho?" (What are you thinking?") She asked.
"Nothing? Where is your mother?"
"She is out to work. Oho! I forgot. She has told me to give you the glass of water she kept for you, immediately after you get up." Like a scared rabbit she ran towards the kitchen of their one roomed shanty.
Malati is right, Sunita is growing up, really fast.
"Now take this papa", Sunita said bringing a glass of water towards him.

Sajal took the glass from her hand and started drinking the water. This is water with lemon juice. Just the best one can afford to get out of the hang over for last night's drinking.

"Baba eta kine enecho? Eta amar? Tumi enecho?" ("Dad, you have bought that for me? You have bought?") The young lady asked him. She could not belive her eyes. All the good thing she has been offered in her life is from her mother and when ever she wanted to be a bit closer to her father, her mother opposed. She has a developed impression in this young age of seven that, her father is of no good.

"Yes dear. This is for you. Do you like this?"
"Yes. It's so cute", she answered. And then tried to say something but controlled herself.
Sajal noticed that.
"Are you trying to say something more?" He enquired.
"No, no, nothing!" Sunita hurried towards the kitchen again.
"Don't go dear, tell me what's wrong." He said.

Sunita came back in an alarmed face. He fears her father. Her drunken father, who, sometimes, beats her mother. Her mother weeps! Her mother get bruises on her back, arms, sometimes on her cheek. He generally comes back home at a time when she is asleep. He never teaches her when she is studying. He never takes them away from this place, as some of the fathers of her friends in school do. He rarely caress her or kisses her. But still, with her small weakened heart of six years, with the least developed human brain to take up all the complexities of this cruel world, with the best possible courage she can gather in herself, she asked her father the questions that goes on and on, in her mind all the time.

"Papa, why do you beat my mother? Why don't you come back early? Why do you drink?"
And then, suddenly realizing the consequences of her inquisitiveness, she uttered.
"Please papa, don't beat me. I am too small to bear that! Please don't hurt me. I won't ask you such questions anymore."

Sajal is shocked. He just couldn't believe his ears, neither could believe his eyes. The little child, whom he thought, he loved more than anything in this whole world is actually scared off him. His frustration has become endless and all his frustration about losing jobs, not getting proper jobs, loosing his ancestral properties to his relatives, loosing the faith in his wife, loosing the self confidence of getting out of this hell ever, seemed much smaller than this one. The little lady, who has come to their world to enlighten their lives with fresh hope and zeal to live again, for a real good cause. The little one with whom he was happy for so many days when he took her home, spent nights after night sleeplessly to bring her up, fears her? Hates her? He just could not take it any more. Though Sunita struggled to get away from him, he grabbed her, embraced her, put her near to his heart.

"No dear. No. Please don't misunderstand me. Your papa is not that bad, papa will teach you. Papa will not beat mom and will leave drinking. Papa will take you away to the village of mom's dream. I shall never beat you my dear. Please forgive me."

Tears started rolling from both the father's and daughter's eyes, as if cleansing the stain from their long stained relationship.

The new day of the year for them has been a different one but may be their unfulfilled dreams be fulfilled if he can keep his promises for his family. Who knows?

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