Ekalavya

By Shashank Chepuri

The Devil was waiting to make his move. He was standing on a railway platform with the air of a hunter waiting for his prey to fall in his trap. As he waited patiently, he couldn’t help but think how much he wanted to quit the job. Lately, his job had become too predictable and boring. His performance in the recent times had reached the zenith, leaving all the competition behind. He really missed his dear friend, The Archangel. 

There were times long long ago when the Angels and Devils used to compete with each other. Those were the times when The Angels used to earn a well deserved victory. The Devil still dreaded the days when Ravana, the king of Devils, was slaughtered by Ram, who was called The Archangel. It was the most embarrassing defeat the devils had ever faced. Ever since, the Devils were trying hard to take revenge. Their attempts were never successful, until recently. 

Since the last couple of decades the battle had become one sided. Off late, there was no competition from the Angels. It was as if the Angels had gone into a deep slumber. They needed a wake-up call. The Devils had become too bored of victory. They needed competition. The Devil recalled his last and most talked about victory on 16th December 2012 wherein a 23-year-old female was beaten and gang raped in a bus in which she was travelling with her male companion. 

‘Where were the Angels then?’ 

The sound of the approaching train brought the Devil back to the present. He became aware of the surroundings. He scanned the people who flocked looking around the train for his next prey. 

An evil smile materialized on his lips when he found her. 

*** 

As the express train arrived at a station for its brief halt, passengers rushed out and into its already packed coaches. Gayathri, a 21-year old girl, just managed to get into a compartment. She was holding on an air bag, which served as her only luggage for her travel. She held the bag with her left hand and held on to a supporting rod with her right hand. As the train accelerated ahead, she suddenly got pushed by the crowd. She panicked and lost her grip, and she was thrown out of the speeding train. 

The bluster of the train muted the thud of her fall on to the ground more than a meter below. Gayathri shrieked with pain when her back met the ground. She was knocked senseless. 

A boy who was standing on the footboard in another compartment of the same train couldn’t believe what he had just seen—a young woman in a white Punjabi suit lying next to the tracks. Meanwhile, gasps and screams emanated from his compartment. 

The boy immediately raised an alarm by pulling the emergency chain frantically. The train screeched, and started decelerating. But it seemed to him as if the train was taking forever to stop. He couldn’t wait for it to halt.

The boy scanned the compartment hoping to find someone willing to help him in rescuing the girl. But nobody volunteered. Everyone was afraid of getting involved. All wanted to know what had happened; all were curious to catch a glimpse of bleeding body and unconscious mind; but no one wanted to come forward and help. All were inactive; all were weak. They could think, but could not feel. They could reason but could not empathize. They spoke in a language devoid of intent. All they cared was to catch their respective glimpses; to consume their daily dose of sheepish whispers and sterilized conspiracies.

The Devil feasted on the scene. The boy was alone. No one was willing to get out of their busy schedule and help the damsel in distress. Everything was going according to the Devil’s plan. 

Unaffected by the people’s response, the boy pushed his way towards the exit of the train. 

The boy took a deep breath and closed his eyes as he jumped off the train. His rubber slippers did little to protect his feet from the sharp edges of the rocks. A burst of pain shot up in his ankle as he landed on the ground. The pain, however, was not strong enough to weaken his vigour. He gasped for breath as he stood looking for the girl. 

He found the girl lying by the side of the tracks around 50 meters away. The rocks (which are usually found between the tracks) had greatly damaged her spine. Her hair lay intertwined with the rocks, which tried to invade her profusely bleeding scalp. The adulterated red streams irrigated the geometrical disparities on her face. Her right hand stretched diagonally towards the track with her thumb resting against her palm; curled like an infant flower bud afraid of daylight. Her left hand, with which she earlier held her luggage, was now smeared in blood. Her luggage lay 10 feet away from her, hidden in the shrubs. 

Gayathri was slipping into unconsciousness. As a child, she had always wondered what death would feel like. She knew she would experience it someday. 

“It can’t be today. It can’t be now”, she prayed. 

‘Don’t worry, you will be fine’, the boy said. It was as if the Angels’ had answered her prayers through the boy. They were the last words she heard before blanking out. She hoped for hope and trusted the voice. 

The boy looked around. No help was in sight—they were alone somewhere between two stations. 

The Devil’s plan was immaculate. The boy alone could do nothing. Devil knew that he would have to give up eventually. 

But the boy had no intentions of giving up. He lifted the 50-kilo Gayathri cautiously and made his way across the tracks. He crossed through some shrubbery, and followed the direction of the sounds. 

The Devil was impressed. This boy earned the Devils attention. For the first time in a long time, the Devil was actually challenged by a human. 

‘I should find help at any cost’, the boy thought. 

‘All you can find is trouble. Yes, that is what you will find. And if you choose trouble, I can offer you a wide variety of it’, the Devil laughed. 

As the boy reached the road, he found new hope. A hope that the girl could be saved. He started asking for lifts. No one cared to stop. 

‘She is injured,’ the boy implored motorists who drove by. 

‘Please help me take her to a hospital’, he cried aloud. 

Tears started rolling down his cheeks. He couldn’t make out if the tears were due to the pain in his legs or for the girl he was carrying. 

As the boy cried, the Devil laughed. It could already smell its victory.

*** 

The 21-year old Gayathri Narayan had her marriage coming up the next week. Like any other Indian girl, she awaited a dream wedding. The wedding was just the icing, indeed. The fact that she was marrying the man she loved was the real cake. She was very happy the way her life was shaping up. She felt like princess. It was as if the whole world was conspiring to please her. 

That day she decided to give her parents a surprise visit. Gayathri was looking forward to having supper with her parents, and a long phone chat with her fiancé. But now she lay drenched in blood on the highway. 

The boy, who was carrying Gayathri, had a very different story. The dark and lanky youngster was from a nearby town. He was an unemployed high-school dropout who’d recently come to city looking for a job. He had spent his morning giving an unsuccessful interview for a job at call center. As he boarded the train home, he pondered his future. But, all he could now think of was saving a stranger’s life. 

*** 

Just when he had begun to lose hope, a tempo-truck pulled over and its driver, a middle-aged man who spoke Punjabi, stepped out. The man helped the boy lay Gayathri down in the back of his truck. 

‘Let’s take the girl to The City Nursing Home’, suggested the driver. 

When the vehicle lurched forward, Gayathri stirred and her eyes fluttered open. 

Gayathri’s eyelids gently rolled up to reveal her light blue eyes and as they came down again, she managed to take a fleeting glimpse of the sight in front of her. She saw a silhouette of a man, standing against the setting sun. He was holding a stick to support his aching leg. It looked to her as if Lord Ram himself was standing in front of her, protecting her from death. She felt like a baby which was taking refuge in its mother’s womb. She felt safe. 

She started a silent prayer but couldn’t complete it as she lost focus and rolled back into the darkness. 

The Devil saw a similar sight. The boy reminded him of the Angels. As the driver helped the boy to lay Gayathri into the back of the truck, the Devil felt nostalgic. It was turning out to be another Ramayan where in Ram and Hanuman come together to save Sita and vanquish the evil lord. The Devil was terrified. 

‘Check her for the mobile-phone. Try and call someone from her contacts’, the driver suggested to the boy. The boy obeyed. He called a contact which said “Bhaiyaa”. It was the contact of the girl’s brother. 

Gayathri’s cousin was wrapping up his day at his software job when his phone rang. The voice on the other end of the phone informed him of Gayathri’s accident and asked him to come to The City Nursing Home as soon as possible. 

‘I’m on my way’, he said, as he rushed towards his motorcycle. 

Gayathri arrived at The City Nursing Home minutes later. Dr. Avasthi conceived the urgency of the case and admitted her immediately to the ICU. As Gayathri was being taken into the ICU the boy was asked to fill the application form. His hands shivered as he filled it up. 

The Doctor asked the boy to hang around until Gayathri’s family arrived. That’s when they noticed that the driver, having done all he could, had slipped away with his truck.

‘Oh, I couldn’t thank him!’ the boy thought. 

Gayathri was still unconscious. But her X-rays showed that although the injuries looked severe, they were not fatal. There would be no lasting damage, but Dr Avasthi believed that she could have bled to death had nobody helped her. 

When she finally opened her eyes, her cousin and fiancé were by her side. She couldn’t find the boy who saved her. 

‘Where is the person who saved me?’ she enquired. 

‘He is not here. He had to leave for his town’, her cousin said. 

She just nodded and fell asleep again. 

*** 

In a few days Gayathri made a full recovery. She was amazed to learn of the manner in which she had been rescued. She enquired more about the boy. 

Her cousin said that he had thanked the boy and offered him money which he promptly refused to accept. 

‘I can’t imagine what would have happened to you if he hadn’t been there,’ he said. 

‘I think it’s astonishing that a stranger would jump off a train and risk his life for me. We can never repay him’, Gayathri said. 

The Devil sat in the same room silently. He was outplayed. He was left defeated but was not disappointed. The boy proved that Humanity was still not lost by all. It was scarce, but it did exist. And as long as people go out of their way to help others, Humanity shall prevail. Perseverance of Humanity is biggest weapon of the Angels and hence the biggest threat to the Devils. 

The Devil was about to leave when he heard Gayathri enquire about the name of the boy. As the Doctor looked into the application form to check his name, the Devil waited for the answer. He needed to know the name of the boy who defeated him. 

‘Ekalavya…His name is Ekalavya’, the Doctor announced. 

The Devil then flew out of the hospital already conspiring for the next disaster, hoping that at least the next time, this trait called humanity, would not cause any trouble in its well laid plans. 

Source : fineartamerica.com

As the Devil left, Gayathri smiled and closed her eyes; visualizing the boy’s silhouette and silently completed the prayer which she had started in the truck.

(Based on a true story...)

---

A Serendipitous Journey

By Manish Reddy

ARJUN

“Honestly, I don’t know any good love stories. But because you are so interested, I think a small story of mine will suffice.” I said.

“Wow! That’s nice Arjun, start from the very beginning!” she said.

She was more than happy; it was obvious from her smile.

“I’m telling you right now that you might be disappointed at the end, because there is nothing like romance or anything in this story - just a boy and a girl, okay?” I warned.

"What? At least a few kisses?", she asked smiling.

“No, not even a kiss!”

“Hmm… its ok, I get a feeling I’ll like this story anyway” she said with a smile but less warmly than before.

“I better get something to eat before you start. Do you want anything?” she asked.

“Yeah, Lays and a coke- Wait I can come with you.”

“It’s ok, I’ll get them, meanwhile, brush up your story by memorizing your girl” she said giggling.

I smiled back at her as she got down from the train checking her mobile for any messages, probably. She smiled again at me from outside the window. Looking at her I could say one thing for sure - She was really beautiful as was her smile. She’s a typical girl; talkative, open minded and easy going. Never before on a train trip have I got to know anyone this well - especially someone this beautiful.

Her father came to the station with her. She apparently likes the window seat too and sat opposite me. When her dad spoke to me, I found out that we were heading to the same place - Delhi. Before leaving from the station her dad kissed her on the forehead. In India, normally, many teenagers get embarrassed by the way their parents express their love in public. But she smiled fondly at him and that struck me more than her beauty.

She was wearing a grey t-shirt and a black overcoat with sleeves running up to her palm so that only the tips of ten dainty fingers are visible. She tucks her hair behind her ears but it refuses stay there and comes tumbling down her face over and over again.

She was the one who started talking. She said and I must quote - "only scholars can be silent because they are full of wisdom but idiots like you and me should talk and share our knowledge, right?" with a smile. She smiles and blushes a lot but I’m not complaining.

Her name was Nithya and she’s doing her graduation in Delhi University while I told her that I was doing my engineering in Bits Pilani Hyderabad Campus. Then we moved on to our mutual interests like movies, books and football. It came as a shock to find a girl follows football. She likes Messi but here we both differ as I’m a diehard fan of Ronaldo. She told me how she fancies love stories and started pestering me to tell one. Somehow, she persuaded me to tell her my non-existent love story.

Any other time, a situation like this would have made me tense but with her, I was calm. As soon as she left, questions started popping in my head. Does she like me? Am I boring? Why did she talk to me in the first place? What love story was I to tell her?

As my mind badgered me with these questions, the railway announced that our train was to leave soon. The woman who makes railway announcements always depresses me. Why don't they ask Shreya Goshal, Sadhana Sargam, Swetha Mohan or Chitra to record these? Doesn’t that count for some kind of community service?

She’s not back yet. The situation tenses as the train sounds its horn. “What perfect timing”, I mutter to no one in particular, “I don’t even know her number to call her back.” I went to the entrance of the compartment but there’s no sign of her yet. The wheels of the train start moving and I strain my neck to catch sight of her but in vain. I mounted an empty bench on the platform and resumed my search operation. Finally I see her as she quickly tries making her way towards the train.

“NITHYA! NITHYA…!” I yelled, waving my hands to get her attention. I never thought that I would have been able to scream like that but I did. She saw me, the relief apparent on her face. But she wasn’t going to make it. This was no Hindi movie though. “Nithya! Get into that compartment!” I yelled as I pointed to the adjacent compartment. I realized that everyone around was staring at me, probably because I was gesturing and screaming like an idiot. Then I looked at Nithya who had mercifully gotten on board. The train is speeding up and I was just standing there, looking at her.

“ARJUN!!” She shouted, waving, asking me to get into the train. Now this was something - Never had my name sounded this sweet or this unfamiliar. I snap out of it and make a dash for the train. We had ended up in different compartments after this train chasing episode. She’s at the doorway of the next compartment, waiting for me, actually laughing. I knew it was funny but I could not make out if she was laughing at me yelling like a clichéd Hindi film hero or if she was simply thanking me.

As there’s a pantry car between our compartments, we can't meet until we reach the next station. I thought that the next station would be about 15 minutes away but a middle aged woman told me that it was an hour away. I don’t feel normal. I think I miss her already, how could that be? I told Nithya with gestures, that I was going to check on our luggage and she nodded her assent.

And our fate was sealed for the next 1 hour. 

NITHYA

I hate this. I felt terrible about nearly missing the train but the optimist inside took control of the situation - Things could have been worse if Arjun wasn’t there or if I had been a minute late. At least I have chips to eat but poor Arjun has nothing. I laugh at the thought. I would be listening to his love story if not for this thrilling episode, I thought. After asking a passenger next to me I find that it’ll take another 40 minutes to reach next station. Why did this happen to me? I must have done something wrong today or yesterday. Yes, now I get it - I should have never left home without taking blessings from Ma. We had a small tiff before I left and I was angry but now I’m not going to see her till semester vacations. I dialed her number on my phone,

“Hello Ma.”

“Hello Nithu , it’s Dada.”

“Dada, I want to talk to mom - is she there?”

“Yes she's here, but she is quite upset that you left without even speaking to her this morning.”

“Oh Dada! Please tell Ma I’m sorry.”

I could hear Dad talking to my mother in the background and she immediately comes on line.

“Nithu, how’s your journey going on? Is everything ok?” She speaks with such intensity that I wish I hadn’t been petty enough to fight with her.

“Everything’s fine Ma, I’m sorry that I didn’t talk to you this morning. I’m really sorry.”

“Forget it Nithu - I wanted to call you too.” She said.

“Aha! Then why didn’t you call me?” I teased her for a while and then hung up. I felt much better. The phone rang again but it wasn’t Ma who usually called me back with some advice or the other. It was an unknown number. “Hello Nithu, where are you?” a growling male voice said, on the other end.

“I’m sorry - Who’s this?”

“Nithu enough of your jokes! Where are you dear?”

“Excuse me, who are you?”

“You already forgot me? Please don’t say such things Nithu.”

“I am going to hang up if you don’t tell me who you are.”

“Oh god! Nithu, this is Siddarth, your classmate from DU.”

“Siddarth? I don’t know any Siddarth, how do you know my number?”

“Nithu what’s wrong with you? When are you coming back? I want to talk to you in person about our relationship.”

“Hello! What relationship? Is this some kind of prank? Honestly, I don’t know any Siddarth.”

“Please Nithu don’t say such things.” He was almost crying.

“Oh God! Seriously man, I don’t know any Siddarth! Why are you crying?”

“Nithu we loved each other. I’m your boyfriend- sorry I was your boyfriend- Don’t you remember anything? what happened to you?” He was still crying.

I was shocked but his words sounded true; do I really have a boyfriend? But I had never dated anyone in my life.

“First stop calling me ‘Nithu’ and I’ve never had a boyfriend. I don’t know who you are! How did you get my number? What do you want?”

“Finally, you asked the right question” said a normal male voice on phone.

“What do you want? “I asked again.

“MyCoke and chips - I am waiting here.” said the anonymous voice.

And then, it struck me.

“You idiot, Arjun! You scared me.”

“Wow, I scared you? I take that as a compliment” said Arjun sounding very amused.

“Go to hell, how did you get my number anyway?” “I have some special powers Nithu. How are you doing over there?” He sound like a child.

“I was fine here until an idiot named Siddarth called me and spoilt my mood.”

“It was just a joke. I wanted to cheer you up since we weren’t together”, he added, “By the way, who’s Siddarth- your boyfriend?” He was teasing me.

I was annoyed. He seemed like a sincere and decent guy - that’s what made me talk to him at first. I found him to be cool and sensible. I easily get bored with people when I spend much time. But I never thought he would fool me. I couldn’t believe he played such a good one on me.

After a long pause I answered “Whatever it is - this isn’t funny Arjun. Bye.” I hung up.

After a minute or less I got a text message from him.

Really sorry if you are hurt.
P.S. Do bring my lays and coke.
Hoping the next station comes soon.
Yours lovingly, Siddarth
haha sry sry...... Arjun

I couldn’t stop laughing after seeing the text. He was playing with me and I had to get back at him. Just then, I saw a small child begging. I thought of giving him some money but instead, I gave him the coke and chips that I had bought for Arjun. The kid smiled at me and thanked me with his eyes. He did not need to say anything.

Of course, the train’s slowing down. I wished train would stop so that I could go to my compartment and beat up Arjun.. Luckily, there’s a red signal and the train stopped before we reached the next station. Without any delay I got down with my cover and I checked my mobile again and started walking .
/*ting*/ I got a text message from Arjun (as expected): Welcome back Yours lovingly .
.
. (I scrolled down expecting Siddarth again)
..

.

Arjun I don’t know if it meant something or if it was one of his jokes. Something in it struck me but I liked it.

ARJUN AND NITHYA

As she approached their compartment, she saw him get down and wait for her eagerly. But neither of them said a word. This mutual silence went on for a few minutes. He couldn't bear this silence but he doesn’t want to speak first. But he did take the initiative. /*ting*/ Her mobile received another text: Silence is meant for scholars not for idiots like us.
We must share our knowledge by talking.
A gorgeous girl once told me so.
What do u say Nithya? She read the text, lifted her head up and looked unflinchingly into his eyes. He was trying to make her laugh by pulling funny faces and miming. Inside, she wanted to burst with laughter and joy but she didn’t want to break the silence either.

There was an old man in the compartment who had observing their antics. “Where were you all this time, my dear?” he asked Nithya.

“I was in another compartment Grandpa - I almost missed the train.”

“Oh Thank God! This young man here was sad and I thought it was because you were gone.” He pointed to Arjun he added, “You will not believe me but he even cried, poor soul.”

Arjun’s face turned red.

Nithya turned to Arjun and asked “Did you really cry for me?”

Arjun said “I missed you and I was sad about that but never cried.”

She’s inwardly very pleased but still persists on teasing him. The old man stared at them and then gave up trying to understand to the joke and went back to his book.

“So, why did you cry Arjun?” Nithya asked.

“Hmm.. It wasn’t the same without you, this place felt so dull, I felt like I lost something important then I even thought of pulling the chain to stop the train, but didn't cried” He said.

How sweet!! She thought, “Aha then why didn’t you?” she said with a smile which he was waiting for all this time.

The charm in her smile made him remember why he actually cried,

“I’m sure that you’ll hit me if I tell you the real reason”, Arjun answered smiling.

“It’s ok tell me why, I won’t beat you”

“Actually it isn’t me who cried.”

“Who’s it then?” “It’s your boyfriend Siddharth” he added “When I was playing that prank on you, I cried to just make it look more real, That’s all.” he burst.

They both laugh for what seems like forever. Finally he asked “Ok, where are my chips and coke?”

Nithya doesn’t know how to answer that question. Suddenly she realized the kid whom she offered them was walking right next to their window. With an innocent expression on her face she pointed towards the kid eating lays and drinking the coke. Arjun’s out of words, he couldn’t believe she did that just to tease him. The train whistled and slowly left the station as the real journey started…

After 12 hours they arrived at Delhi. But as it later turned out, they were destined to make many more journeys together.

SIDDHARTH

After 14 years Arjun and Nithya are blessed with a 10 year old son whom they named Siddharth.

And each night they would tell him their story.

And they would remind him that in life, the journey is the destination.

On The Edge

By Sai Nisanth D.

The evening sun seemed obstinate in not going down below the horizon. He had been watching its transition right from the time it burnt bright red till its present color of pale orange, not that it registered in his mind anyway. All of nature’s diverse beauty was lost on him. Neither the sweet sounds of the birds chirping away, nor the melodious evening breeze, nor the golden color of the sky, stirred any form of feeling in him. He stared down at the hustling river flowing a hundred feet below the cliff on whose edge he stood. He imagined how it would feel when his body hit the piercing rocks that stood towering over the waters.  All he was sure of was that his lifeless body would sink into the bottomless depths of the river never to be seen again. Two steps…two steps, a hundred feet free fall and death would embrace him. He wanted no more than to welcome it with open hands.

As he contemplated his next move all those wonderful and seemingly timeless meetings he had with her at this very place came flooding back to him. Jane-the only girl he had ever truly loved. He had gone through the intense trauma of watching helplessly as the car hit her just as she was crossing the road to get to him. He had made up his mind-a world without her was not worth living. He had decided it was time to end the pain once and for all. He took one step forward…he was not scared...but he still couldn't block her out of his mind…what if he survived somehow? No he couldn't allow that-he wanted no favors from the death gods. For a second, half his body was in mid air toying with his other half to follow suit; he struggled with himself but his body just wouldn't budge and he pulled back.  “F*ck” . He cursed out loud.

A week…2 weeks…a month…3 months. He was back to square one. He had tried many times in the interval. Google had provided a few innovative ideas even. He had nearly died laughing at them. But he just couldn't get himself to do it. Life had not been kind to him the last few months, he had not been kind to himself rather. He had more drinks than all of his friends combined-surprising given that he had never touched alcohol in his life before her death. When even drink could not take the pain away, he turned to drugs.

Large chunks of time in his life seemed missing when he looked back at the last few weeks. Drugs-he seemed to have found the perfect respite. Jane.There she stood right in front of him. She was beckoning him to come to her. He laughed at his own insanity. But then again what if it was no illusion? Don’t kid yourself, something told him. He staggered towards her- dizzy and his head throbbing and on the verge of explosion.” My Jane, my only love, please don’t leave me again….”

Eyewitnesses recounted that they could only watch in shock as they saw the drunk lad run towards the speeding car.

---

The Match Seller

By Khyati Agarwal

This story here is not exactly an original. It’s the one which I heard from grandparent’s ages ago and would like to share with you. It has been modified in many ways and the writing is mine but if anyone is familiar with the original story, feel free to share it.

She was walking gracefully on the stony platform. She was barefoot. She had a plaid green shawl thrown across her shoulders. She wore a long flowing skirt on which, at places there was some patchwork. She wore a dirty cashmere sweater with gaping holes in it. She had large, beautiful, expressive grey eyes that took me in completely when she asked me to buy a packet of matchsticks from her. Yes, she was a match-seller.

I was going to Petersburg to visit a friend of mine. At Volkan (I think, that was the name), a station just before Petersburg, I opened the window to let the fresh air pour in. I was grateful for the freshness despite the icy cold breeze. It was then that she came up to me with her large innocent eyes and asked me to buy a match box. I stared at her fixedly for half a minute and was wondering who would send their child in such frigid a weather, barefoot? She seemed around twelve years old. She requested me in earnest and her eyes seemed to be pleading to buy a match and not drive her away as the rest did. I obliged. I rummaged in my cloak pocket for a rouble. I handed her the money and she gave me a couple of matchboxes. She smiled and said, “Spasibo bolshoe". Her eyes lit, she went off in the other direction, selling matches. Her smile passed on to me and I retained it for the rest of my journey. Why, though? I do not know!
………………………………………………………………………….
Two days later, the cold became severe. The girl at the Volkan station was shivering uncontrollably. She had to sell her daily quota of matchsticks otherwise she be thrashed by her step-father. She remembered the last thrashing and winced involuntarily. The bruise on her elbow still hurt. She sighed deeply. The only one who ever loved her was her grandmother. She was the one who consoled her and made her feel worthwhile. She was the reason, the girl smiled. But apparently God needed her grandmother more and so he took her away about two months ago. After her demise, it was a miracle if she could manage her daily meals.

Waking from her reverie, she walked and walked, convinced that someone would buy her matches. Suddenly, snowfall started. She sat in the corner near the bookstall and observed the passengers. She could not discern their shapes in the dark so she decided to light a match which would keep her warm and would let her observe the people. But she had to be economical in her usage of matches, lest her father hit her.

She lit a match and a wave of warmth shot through her whole body. In its light, she caught a glimpse of a strong man with broad shoulders, dressed in a crisp, black business suit, a camel-skin overcoat, sleek and shiny leather boots and a grave looking briefcase. Seeing him, she remembered, as if from a past life, a period of prosperity when she was with her mother, grandma, and her stepfather. They lived in a large mansion with all the comforts and luxuries one could dream of. This was before her mother’s death. Afterwards, her stepfather (a drunkard) recklessly spent all their money in gambling and they became virtually beggars. The flame came very close to her hand. She couldn’t hold it any longer. She let the match drop. It extinguished, taking away all its light and all its warmth with it.

Photo credit - Aditi Shrivastava

She lit another match and in its light, she saw an old lady cajoling a five year old and she was forcibly reminded of her grandmother. The match again, became too hot to hold and she let it drop with a sigh. She felt a little dizzy so she leaned her head against the wall and closed her eyes. The cold was intense. Her toes and fingers were all numb, her lips blue and her teeth were chattering continuously. She kept delaying on the lighting of the third match. She shivered, both from the cold and the fear of being flogged by her stepfather for wasting too many matches.

Ultimately, she had to give in. The cold was unbearable. She lit the third match and lo! She saw her grandma! She was pearly white and translucent. But she was her grandma, the person whom she had thought of the most that night. The girl grinned happily as her grandma spread her arms wide for the little match girl to hug her. There was warmth all around her grandmother and the girl welcomed it as she embraced her.
………………………………………………………………………….
Next morning, the train stopped at the station and I got out of my compartment in the expectation of seeing the match girl again. I couldn’t find her and was filled with a sense of foreboding. After much searching, I found her sleeping blissfully under the cover of a white blanket. On her face was an exuberant smile, her now no more bright eyes were open whilst the snowflakes rested on their lashes and beside her lay three matchsticks. She was dead. And I was sickened to the core.

I asked the owner of the nearby bookstall about her. He said the severe cold must have killed her. He added it was best for her as her father treated her like an animal. He said the authorities had been informed. I walked up to her, closed her laughing eyes which mocked the world and stood rooted to the spot until the final call for the train leaving registered in my brain and I ran for my compartment.

The image of the girl under the snowy blanket and her dazzling smile was now branded in my memory. I couldn’t shake it off. I couldn’t help but wonder what was the reason for that peaceful, serene smile of hers. She would have seen an apparition of sorts, I concluded. For who would smile so jovially when sent out to sell matches in this cruel cold? Yes, she would have seen an angel. But she would never say anything about this. I would never know…

Just An Hour More

By Vasundhra Goyal

Flight to Houston via Chicago was an hour late. 

“Off all the places in United States, why did you choose Houston?”
Riya wasn’t trying to reason out with Avin as to why he only had got to go to Houston and not Chicago or New York or Boston. As it became evident, he would be going abroad, be it any place, far away from India. How does it even matter? She just wanted to break the silence that had become a part of their meetings in past five years. Living without Avin was something she was not ready to accept.

9:45 PM 

Mumbai Airport was stuffed with people, waiting for their flights. Hardly anyone had time to notice a young girl and a guy who must have been there for almost half an hour, sitting silently without uttering a word. Who knew what was going at the back of their heads. 

“My aunt lives in Houston. Though I will be staying in hostel, but I guess it will be good to have someone from my family around.” 

It was the first time Avin and Riya were alone without anyone else tagging along. Avin’s best buddy Rishab was teased as his gay lover when they were in school. Fortunately, Rishab wasn’t there in Mumbai that day. Avin had already met him in Bangalore when he went back to his college to get his transcript.

Photo credit - Anoop Nagendra

Riya recalled the day Avin came back from Bangalore. He had called her that day.

“Hey! ‘ssup? Still lost in my dreams?”

“Shut up! I am busy. I have joined Dad’s office, been working for a month.”

“Nice. Continue like that till you get hitched to a nice Punjabi Munda. Did someone approach you till date?”

“No. Not yet. And I am in no hurry.”

“Awww! Poor Riya. You will die a virgin I guess.”

“Please! I don’t want to end up getting HIV positive. Seriously, how many did you sleep with? You must have developed AIDS by now. Did you get your blood report recently?” Riya teased.

“Ever heard of a thing as CONDOM? I have got plenty. Get one from me if ever you happen to need it. My bribe in return will be, name of the guy, time, place along with details of what happened.”

“Get lost, you pervert. Gross. Sick. But seriously, how many have you slept with?”

“I have lost count, you know. But you don’t need to be jealous. You will get better than me.”

“Who told you I was jealous? Trust me, I have better options.”

“Awww. Can’t get enough of me, can you?”

“Even in worst case, I would rather end up with a girl than getting involved with you.”

“Okay, I got it. Oh! By the way, Rishab called. He said he is missing you.”

“Fuck Rishab. Tell me one girl he doesn’t miss?”

“I know one, you. But this time he genuinely seemed to be missing you. By the way, who is this Ambar chick? He was talking a lot about her.”

“She is one of my friends from college. And now I know exactly why he has been missing me. Creep.”

“To ab agar tumhara meri maarne ka quota pura hogaya ho to main jaun? Just came home, need a bath.”

“OoooooHhhhhh! I can just imagine you without shirt. I wish 3G was more common.”

“Now look who’s a pervert. Seriously girl, give your hormones a break. Get back to your work.”

“Yeah! Yeah! Bye.”

“Bubye.”

Those memories of the past were disturbing her all the more. It was silent outside, but something was screaming inside her.

10:15 PM 

Half an hour more, still too many people around. And they both hear a voice. “Oh my Romeo! I shall miss thy dick, penetrating the insides of my anus, Thy rosy tongue, moving all over my nipples.”

Riya immediately recognizes the familiar voice “Shut the fuck up Rishab.” For the first time, she was glad Rishab was there.

“Awww! We missed you so much.” Just as Riya was about to hug him, Avin pushed her away and grabbed Rishab pretending to be teary eyed. Rishab was crushed in Avin’s tight embrace. Avin loosened his grip, still pretending to be teary eyed, “My Juliet! Thy kiss, I shall always remember in my soul. Thy touch, as soft as a butterfly, thy...”

Riya interrupts, “Oh cut the crap. Seriously! You two have taken this Gay business quite convincingly.”

They could almost imagine themselves back in school times when Rishab had been desperate to kiss Avin for the 500 bucks offered to him by a guy who came in their van. There was a time when the news had spread like fire that Avin and Rishab were possibly gay couples. Rishab and Avin had nearly ended their friendship because of that when they ultimately thought “screw people, who cares even if we are gay, let them assume so if they want to.”

“How did you reach here? I thought you were in Bangalore.” Avin was pumping with joy. He never expected Rishab to be there to see him off.

“I just got here. I caught the evening flight. I was afraid I would miss you.”

“That, you would anyhow.”

“Chal na. I have a lot of chicks around to make me forget my grief.” Rishab winked and turned to Riya, “Oh by the way how is Ambar?”

“Rishab! Leave her alone. You are not worth her.”

“Ha ha! Big deal. Just give me her no.”

“No I won’t!”

Avin snaps, ”See, if you don’t want us to have any wrong intentions for you, you should probably fix us with some of your hot female friends.”

“You better watch out for your firangi females. Those desi girls are just for me.” Avin and Rishab started fighting again like they used to in school.

Flight 847 for Chicago is ready for is passengers. Passengers of flight 847 kindly proceed to gate no. 2.

“Time to go”, Avin looked demented.

“Have a safe journey bro. Will miss you.” Avin and Rishab hugged each other. He looked at Riya for a second and then hugged her tightly. This was the first time they hugged each other and probably the last time. Riya controlled the sudden outburst of emotions that broke inside by the warmth of his embrace. “Cheer up fatso. I will stay in touch. 2 years atmost and then I will be back.”

“I know more about people who go abroad to expect you back in 2 years. Seriously! I am fine. Enjoy your life there. Make the best of this opportunity.”

Avin waved Goodbye to his friends and proceeded for immigrations.

Rishab got the opportunity to talk to Riya alone.

“So, did you say anything?”

“Say what?”

“Oh, come on. Anyone could have guessed that. You are madly in love with him, aren’t you?”

Riya didn’t know what to say...

“You thought I wouldn’t notice. All this time, I knew what you felt for him. It’s just that you lacked the confidence to express yourself. If only I knew you would be as dumb as not to say it even at the last few minutes, I would have disclosed that to him myself. Why do you think I came here on time?”

Riya was welling with emotions. Tears rolled down and she felt helpless. What if he doesn’t want her? What if he still loved his ex-girlfriend? Her worst fear was rejection from her best friend and losing a hope to be with him someday.

Avin boarded the flight. He could picture his life in America. It was gonna be an all new experience for him. His life was going to take a 360 degree turn.

He got up to check his belongings. Something was missing and he couldn’t figure out what. He knew he was forgetting something. He checked his bag again and found a music CD of Mandy Moore songs given to him by Riya. He wondered how it came there. It must have been there for a long time, and the day he decided to take that bag along with him, he must have forgotten to take it out with the other stuff from that bag.

As if a lightning struck him that very moment and he instantly knew what was missing. Tears rolled down his cheeks...

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Vasundhara Goyal
I eat when I am bored and I live by the quotes that explain exactly what I am going through. I fancy reading Archie comics for the love of my favourite character Jughead Jones and I tend to get attracted to guys with a persona like him. I am a loner and at times I search for lonely spots where I can just sit and daydream.

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Super - Insaans : The Beginning

By Pragyananda Mishra

Born in a small village of Smashpur, Brush Banner was just the quintessential simpleton next door. Spending his childhood among explosives, science and medicine he developed flair in the art of experimentation. The name ‘Brush’ was a result of his peculiar practice of brushing with a green paste 3 times a day (some even say this was a result of a failed attempt to impress a girl by using green oil painting!!). In the village of Smashpur, the richest man was Pogambo- who amassed massive wealth from his battery of hooligans and vandals. Pogambo was blessed with a son named Mogambo, who had a mutated laugh gene from birth which made him to utter “Mogambo khush hua” at every drop of a hat! Being school mates, Brush Banner and Mogambo were as different as fire and ice but still managed to get together well on their various journeys and expeditions through the woods, jungles and zoos. Things went on very smoothly till the 5th of November - the day was special in a way that Smashpur was celebrating its centennial Durga Puja celebration but little did the denizens knew that this day would scar them forever- especially of the two bosom friends.

The school play was a very integral feature of the RamLeela done as a part of the festivities. As with kids, ecstasy just failed to leave Brush Banner and Mogambo as it was a hard earned victory in the battle of the countless auditions and hour of rehearsals. To make matters a tad interesting the school’s cynosure, the beauty Lara Kofta was to don the clothes of Sita. Although Mogambo has tried to woo her with gifts, chocolates and myriad flowers, Lara never had a soft corner for him. She always was interested in the reticent and meticulous Brush Banner. The grapevine had that Brush Banner had given many tips to Lara about expeditions, mysteries and tomb raiding (Coming from a family of the many grave diggers and treasure hunters she had to fall for it). The entire scheme of affairs was being closely looked at by a senior named Joe Kar, loved to make people laugh- by hook or by crook. He was also behind those tens of “Please-Like-for-a-Competition” chats send across to class mates. Obviously many agreed and helped him, but Brush Banner and Lara were two of those who stood out and firmly objected to this system of forcing people to oblige. He hatched a plot to scar these two rebels for ever. His nefarious brain thought of replacing the crown of Lord Rama (the role to be played by Brush Banner) by a chemical which itches and leaves permanent marks, and for the fate of Sita (the role to be played by Lara Kofta) he thought of placing a poisonous flower which could make her temporarily insane! The school’s principal was an ardent drama enthusiast Mr. Sher Lok Homes, who was a dignitary in the village given that he was a landlord and offered condominiums in the posh area called Lok Street. He, among other things was a brute taskmaster and was seen smoking a pipe and having the assistance of Dr. What Son when it came to important affairs.

The play began among thunderous applause and cheering. Mogambo was at his vociferous best with the utterances of his catchphrase while fitting into the role of the imposing Ravana and Brush Banner carried the stature of Lord Ram in a manner which was never seen before. To complete the story, Lara Kofta was delightfully witty and at her gracious best as Sita. It was the 23rd minute when after a barrage of arrows and vociferous dialogues that Ram entered the battle with the Ravan. After some spellbinding exchanges, Joe Kar found the opportune moment to unleash his demonic ideas into practice and sprayed the chemical on Brush Banner’s crown and planted the flower in Lara Kofta’s wig. Banner, nonchalantly put on his crown for the next act and suddenly felt the influences as he scratched all over accidentally spilling a green chemical on himself in the process (Later it was found that the chemical was brought by the ever so forgetful Mr. Been) - the Smashpur residents watched with horror as Brush Banner transformed into a monster, a grotesque green form smashing furniture and screaming at the top of his voice. It was only a Lara Kofta’s touch and comforting voice which brought back the monster to a human form- Brush Banner had got an evil twin - a Howlk.

Time passed and these little friends and enemies entered manhood and settled into different roles. Lara Kofta became an avid Tomb Raider, Mogambo took help of minions and build a gang of hooligans who helped him to be the emperor of the world, Brush Banner/Howlk was a scientist during the daytime at the Smashpur academy of sciences and Mr Sher Lok Homes became one of the largest retail estate behemoths of the country. Mr Been grew to be a charming TV personality, making children roll to his comic histrionics. The world never knew of Joe Kar after that, it was said that he left Smashpur as he was interested more in meeting an unstoppable force - The Batmanav!

Lots more on the next story…..

Pencils

By Nikhil Jain

He (hands her a letter): This one’s for you. Don’t read till I say so.

She (takes it): Hello. As always, I won’t.

He: I guess today’s our last meeting.

She: Our last professional meeting, I must say. A doctor and patient can always meet after the patient gets cured.

He (notices a long tattoo that issues from her sleeve): Nice tattoo by the way! Is it new? Did you get inspired by Prison break?

She (hiding it and smiling): Naah! It’s nothing like that. It’s been there for a long time now. Just reminds me of something. Would you like to have some coffee?

He: Yes, definitely. But…I would love to have it with you after our sessions end.

She: We’ll see to that too. But right now you should have some. (Hands him a coffee cup)

(Boy starts to sing)

She: Um… Even though you seem to be singing from the bottom of your heart, with the purest of intentions, I must say, it is terrible!

He (stops singing and takes a sip of the coffee): Oh sorry! I just got carried away. Aren’t you having coffee?

She: No, I don’t like to have it at this time of the day.

He: Okay. Throw that pencil. Use this pen to jot down your notes.

She: Why? It’s convenient with this. You know scientists could have used a pencil to write on zero gravity rather than wasting time and money on making special pens. And you are a student from Cornell, aren’t you? You would have used loads of pencils to draw.

He: Well, it seems as though someone has done their background research on me.

She: Momma says that it’s always good to do background research on unknown guys. Once, there was this one guy in my college who would just follow me everywhere. He would be there when I went to classes and back to the hostel. I would go the canteen and he would always be sitting there; staring silently. Then do you know what happened? In the library, he sat in front of me and... Hello! Are you listening to anything or am I just blabbering?

He: Yes, of course I’m listening.

She: What happened?

He: Nothing. I was listening; it’s my job to listen.

She: What were you thinking? You look a bit tensed today...What's the matter?

He: Nothing… it’s just general everyday stuff; A few decisions to make, a whole lot to ponder upon and decide.

She (looks at the photographs on the table between them): These photographs. They seem familiar. Who are these people?

He: Just friends. You know; Memories of the past that survive and still affect your present.

She: Can I be of any help? Come on! In the past ten weeks you’ve told me every single incident of your life. Have you been taking your pills lately?

He: Yes, I’ve taken them. Tell me how shall we start today?

She: I suggest the same way we did it the first time. Tell me the whole story?

He: It might seem funny and I can guarantee you wouldn't believe a single word of it. No one does.

She: Look at me. See, I trust you and I believe you more than anything in this world. Please, carry on; from the beginning.

He: I don’t think you have the courage to listen and even if you have it you’ll hate me as a person after listening.

She: Nothing like that would happen. Tell me your story.

He: Well it would seem unbelievable at all… I don’t know how to say it or explain it to you.

She: Keep it simple.

He: I don’t like pencils. I hate them and anything written by them.

She: So, you have a fear of pencils?

He: Do you know how fear arises in a human mind? Or should I ask you what exactly fear is?

She: I’d like to know your definition.

He: First, answer my question. Have you ever felt real fear?

She (becomes nervous and distracted): Yes I have… but it’s you we are talking about.

He (turns off the lights suddenly): Let me tell you what exactly fear is. Imagine yourself as a 10 year old child. Your mother is not well and so both of your parents are away at the hospital. Its dark out there and you’re at home alone. The home is quieter than you can ever remember. The front door is suddenly thrown against the door frame. You see it and hear it at the same time. A feeling grabs you, pierces your body and goes away. Your breathing speeds up, your heart races and muscles tighten but you are helpless.

She (turns on the lights): Have you ever been to Goa?

He: Yes, I have. How does it come into the picture?

She: Think about it! The calm beaches spreading till eternity and the aura of peace. Imagine sitting on the sand while the waves just touch your toes and run away. Think of the pretty ladies, the cold beer and the alcohol.

He: If this is an attempt to calm me down, I do appreciate it..

She: Thank you. I am glad it worked.

He: Fear isn’t your brain’s reaction to stimuli. It is much more than that. When you feel it then only you get to know about it, young lady.

She: So are you afraid of other sharp objects? A needle or anything of that kind…

He: No, no… it’s not like that. I am not suffering from achimophobia, the fear of sharp objects; only pencils. It’s just pencils that I don’t like; anything written or drawn by it.

She: It’s curious and peculiar too. Do you see the painting over there? Go ahead. Have a look at it. Tell me if you like it.

(He moves and smiles on seeing the painting)

He: It’s very beautiful. You know, I also used to paint as a child. I remember once I painted me and a friend of mine: An open bridge along which there was the dawn over the desert. The other side was raining. Two utterly not so good scenes but when the rays of the sun from the right combined with the raindrops from the left they formed a beautiful rainbow over us.

She: That seems wonderful and familiar too. Do you still have it? And, how’ll you interpret this one?

He: This one... A pacified sea as if it is the silence before the storm. The dull colour of the trees suggests destruction. The old rustic house as if it’s abandoned for ages. No sunlight and so no ray of hope.

She: I never thought of it that way. For me, it’s just a normal winter scene. See, how from a constructive mind you’ve changed into a silent admirer and a critic.

He: Change is the only constant in life and change is inevitable.

She: Amen to that! The paintings you see, once they were made initially by a pencil only. And see when things changed they were made more beautiful. Why would one see the darkness and not the overall picture? 

Photo credit - Manushree Gangwar

He: If you stay in the dark for a long time, you get adjusted to it and then the light pains you. It’s as simple as that and the same happened in this case.

She: So where does this darkness come from?

He: Transition from being the sufferer to the one making others suffer. The only difference is that while I was innocent others weren’t.

She: I guess everyone thinks of themselves as being innocent from their frame of reference. Someone has to take the vantage point to sort it out.

He: What do you expect from a 10 year old kid except innocence?

She: I know it is difficult for you; to live through the pain, the suffering all over again. But try trusting me. I am here for you. Please try.

He: Will you help me?

She: Yes, I will.

He: It’s a long story. I cannot block out the sad memories of my childhood. It contains an abusive mental person. People used to say that he was very creative. Our society hailed him as a genius. He taught me drawing and painting. I was very close to him and trusted him. My parents trusted him too. When my mother was ill, they left me with this person. He would ask me to make tea for him.

She: What was his name?

He: He’s no more alive so it doesn’t matter anymore. I used to hide in my bedroom, feeling helpless, scared and alone. I remember not being able to bring any friends over at my house. When no one was around, he would prick my body with pencils saying that he would paint beautiful picture on my body. He never touched me with his hands but he molested me with pencils. I don’t know what pleasure it gave him. I can’t forget. I can’t forgive. No matter how hard I push myself, I cannot look back without feeling heartache and misery. I still can’t move forward.

She: Did you ever try to run?

He: The thought came to my mind many times but I didn’t have the courage to run or to tell anyone. I thought that I wasn’t strong enough to run and that someone would grab me from behind.

She: Come with me, I’ll walk with you.

He: Where?

She: Somewhere, where there will be no pain, no fear and no grief, only beautiful pictures that we’ll paint with your colours. Where there will rainbows all over the picture and not only over the bridge. Some place only we know and where no one else will come. We’ll make our own world, free from the burdens of this world. A place where I’ll make coffee for you and you’ll write for me. And then we’ll walk into the sunshine, collect the rosebuds hand in hand and sleep in the moonlight. A place belongs to you and me - Only you and me and happiness.

He: It’s tough coming out of it. Thank you.

She: It’s beautiful to think how things will change after this session. I am so excited about the idea of us being together.

He: Walking into the sunset seems and feels too good to imagine. Do you know why? It’s because one sees the sky and the sea meet at the horizon. But does that happen in reality? No, never. It’s just an illusion.

She: No dear, it isn’t. I won’t let it happen this time.

He: I am not yet finished. There is more that I need to tell you. Now I would like to tell you about my sins - The ones people think I should be guilty for, but I am not.

She: Is this some sort of confession?

He: Kind of.

She: Okay. Tell me…

He: I have a request.

She: What is it?

He: It’s too bright. Please turn off the lights. I don’t want you to see me while I speak of my crimes.

She (nervous): Don’t you see a ray of hope in your crimes?

He: It’s only in darkness that it takes over me.

She: Why don’t you feel guilty of your sins?

He: Because people say that an extended period of grief causes mental illness. Switch the lights off now.

(The lights are switched off)

He: I grew up with all this fear. But it made me stronger. The fear turned into fury. Anger developed in me gradually. All I could seek for was revenge. I planned out things. It was unbelievable how the person, whom I had trusted, had done that to me. I purchased numerous pencils of vivid colors that day. The…

She (interrupts him and takes over the narration): The very next day when he came, revenge had taken over my pain. I decided that I wasn’t the one being the canvas this time - He would be the subject matter and I would decide his fate. They say that poison is the weapon of the ladies and I agreed.

I put rat poison in his tea. In a few moments, he was drowsy and fell asleep on the couch. I had already covered the pencils with poison too and made him swallow them - 73 pencils exactly. I remember how I put them inside his mouth. He has no chance to survive at all. Nobody knew and I dragged his body to the society dustbin late in the night. It took four hours of hard work but it provided me with relief for several years to follow.

He: If you felt relief then why didn’t you stop there?

She (furious): What do you mean that I didn’t stop? What are you trying to say?

He: You see these pictures. These aren’t my friends - They are yours. This young girl used to work at your call center. And this young guy had just been promoted. What wrong had they done to you?

She: Ohhh. That guy cheated on me. He said that he would be with me for ever because I was his life and he made me all sorts of promises. When I told him of my past and the pain I had endured, he stopped talking to me. Then he dumped me for my best friend leaving me to pick up all the pieces. And that girl - she didn’t had the courage to tell me. When I found out about them they didn’t even talk to me. But I was nice to them. So you know how this modern generation is crazy for alcohol? I called them for a party and the alcohol was diluted with rat poison and painted with pencils. This tattoo which you see, it’s not prison break stuff. It was a reminder for me to destroy those two people. That’s why I had it painted it on my body.

He: Calm down. Think of yourself as a bird flying through the blue sky filled with balloon - like clouds. Feel small droplets of water falling, brushing your skin while you head for the horizon to meet someone who’s waiting there for you with a bouquet. It has been a beautiful end to a painful journey - An end which will serve as a new beginning for you and for that someone special.

(He turns on the light)

She: I guess our appointment is over. Shall we plan further?

He: Not yet. You’re not alright yet. I can’t give you a clean chit. You have to continue your pills for two more weeks.

She: Looks like someone forgot who’s the doctor here?

He: I am in charge here and you have memory problem - for some reason you tend to remember the bad memories more than the good ones. It’s me who is the doctor from Cornel University. See this card? And what you’re holding in your hand is not a letter, it is your prescription. You still aren’t yourself and you need some more time.

She: But this picture of yours – Did you paint it? And those memories... how do you know them?

He: It’s a long story. Your aunt brought you here 10 weeks ago. You’ve told me all these stories during the past sessions and that’s why I never knew the minute details. You’ve progressed well and you’ll be fine. It’ll just take some more time. Believe me. Trust me. Have faith in God.

She: But once this is over, you’ll be mine? We’ll still have our own world? Say yes. We’ll go far from this world and have our own wooden house with a balcony.

He: I am sorry but I am not sure if that will happen.

She: You liar! You bastard! You cheat!. You used me and broke my trust like that bastard who spoiled my childhood. Like my ex-lover. Like my friend. You’re just another one of them!

He: Calm down and listen to me. This was all for you. You’re a wonderful person. And I...

She: Lies! All lies! I trusted you like a fool. I loved you and you played me.

He: I keep telling you and I said this to you in the last session too… (He falls suddenly)

She: Get lost. Get lost from my life. You liar! You said that I remember only bad memories. Guess what? I remember the last session too. You filthy liar, that shall be the last coffee you will ever have.

He lay dead on the floor.