It runs in all of us, yet many swoon at the sight of it. The British swear by it and the colour red is best known for it. Blood.
Fresh drops of blood lying on the floor and on the stairs above us. Glistening in the yellow light thrown by the cheap Edison hanging above us. We had to endure yet another minute of stunned silence...something that had become a repeated exercise that night. No one offered any opinion. Our watchman, a 40 something guy who possessed none of the traits that a watchman should have, had a stricken look on his face. Thankfully, one of the others said that we'd better go up and have a look. I didn't like it at all though I knew that that was the right thing to do. So we traipsed up the bloody stairs wondering what lay above us.
There was no light at the terrace and we had to contend with the eerie lights of our mobiles. We slowly went around the whole place looking for any people left behind or more blood. People, there weren't any, but blood, yes. At numerous places throughout the terrace, there were drops of blood and the scene looked more ghastly, looking through the light from our Nokia's and Sony's. We didn't know what to do, we looked at the others for advice. One man suggested we call the police. Sensing that it was the sensible thing to do, my friend called the nearest police station. A person from the police fraternity picked up the call. He seemed drunk but listened attentively. And promised he would send a couple of people right away. We came down and looked around the cellar. More blood. The guy, whoever he was, seemed to have been battered around quite a bit. We went out of the apartment and stood near the gate on the road outside. I looked at the time on my mobile. It was close to half past one. I sighed, remembering that I had to rush off to work tomorrow. But what the heck, you don't experience things like these every day. What more lay in store for us?
All around us, in the dead of night, people in bed were either snoring away or doing something productive while we were standing almost next to the dead waiting for the police to investigate a screeching bloody intruder. While waiting in the semi dark on the road under the slightly larger but just as cheap street light, I couldn't help but vent my raging doubts inside me about the whole thing. I turned to my still stricken watchman and asked him simple and straight if they had had any such noisy episodes in the past. He almost too vehemently denied any such happening before. I knew I was barking up the wrong memory. He was a very incompetent man, leave alone watchman. So I posed the same query to the other people, the men not the boys amongst us. They replied with the same denial minus the vehemence though. I couldn't keep it in any longer.
"I'm asking about the cemetery....did any disturbance originate from that source"?I asked trying hard to keep my tone from sounding too girlish.
The men smiled and replied I hoped at the time truthfully, "No". While I was ruminating over the honesty of these respectable men and while the other people who lived on the road either were sleeping or again doing something productive, we heard the roar/rumble/rattle of the erstwhile Indian Police vehicle-the Mahindra Jeep. As the vehicle tugged on towards us, with smoke seeming to come out of every corner of the vehicle, we were left wondering as to what this much criticised and notoriously incompetent branch of the IPS would do to offer any semblance of meaning to the apparently senseless and mysterious incident. How wrong we were man, how bloody wrong!!
As the vehicle halted to a clumsy stop, we almost gaped at the sight before us. There seemed to be at least close to a dozen khaki law enforcers in that ancient vehicle. All we did was report a mysterious incident! What on earth were so many policemen doing at our place? Yes, of course! Only that day the Ayodhya verdict had come out. Not surprisingly, they were jumpy and didn't want to take any chances.
Out came the guys, some too conspicuously drunk, almost staggering while the rest seemed sleepy. But the best...it was saved for the last, people. A monster of a man emerged from the Jeep, still smartly dressed even at the late hour, minus the cap though, wielding the most ferocious looking piece of wood I had ever set my eyes on. A bit of history here. About a couple of years back, while jumping around with half of the city on Dec 31st at our good ol' beach road at Vizag, my innocent shins among many others were caned mercilessly by a lathi. So I had an inkling of what a lathi was capable of and why even after Kalashnikov's and AK 47's were deemed as modern deadly arm ware, the police still arm themselves with this simple, uncomplicated yet beastly weapon. This particular man though had the meanest looking lathi. That piece of wood looked like it could beat your bones to a pulp with a single strike. However, it was only an accessory to the mean, mean policeman.
The Circle Inspector of the Crime Department and looking every part that. Over six feet, a hefty build coupled with muscle at all the right places and a severed head, yes, not a single strand of hair on his scalp. He was dark and looked like he came from the dark. I was instantly reminded of the police villains of yesteryear Telugu cinema. Boy, I thought, let the games begin!!!
It was crystal clear that he was the guy in charge. He gave his lathi to a young constable beside and almost charged towards us. He went straight for our watchman. I promise I have never seen a grown man cower so timidly before a younger person. For, our watchman, that incompetent man I had talked about previously was almost shaking with fright. The CI towered over him and asked a simple question, "What happened"? It easily must have shaken awake a dozen sleeping people in the apartments on the street. True to his behaviour, our watchman blabbered incoherently much to the anger of the CI. He nevertheless listened for a while, made out that there was an intruder and asked him in that thunderous voice of his, "Did you see anyone go up after you had bolted the gates"?
The stupid guy promptly replied, "I saw someone run out of the apartment building".
The CI was patient enough, asked again, "Did you see anyone go up"?
We were aghast at the audacity of the imbecile, "I saw someone run out of the apartment building".
The seething CI raised his arm and the trajectory was about to complete its deadly course and crash on the watchman when he shouted pleading, "I'm sorry...I'm sorry...I was asleep!!!" The CI did not finish what he had started to do, physically. But he started on a barrage of expletives that was most remarkable....permutations and combinations of all the foul language, correct in grammar, awful in meaning...it made us choke in fright and disgust. The watchman looked ready to fall down to his knees. This was when the mobile phone saved him. The CI's cell rang with a screeching tone and he went to attend to it. Having got a reprieve, we looked at each other while the watchman looked at his feet.
After about a conversation which mostly involved the CI listening and replying with a frequent "Yes,Sir", "Yes, Sir", he finally came back to us. Armed with a glint in his eye in place of the lathi, he asked a definitive question, "Who is Hemanth here"? A guy from one of the other bachelor rooms replied almost trembling, "Ee..It's me Sir".
He barked, "Band ekku ra!!!!"**
Repetitive though it as it might sound, I would have to say again...we were stunned,stupefied,shocked....consult a thesaurus.
** Get in the bloody jeep!!!
Fresh drops of blood lying on the floor and on the stairs above us. Glistening in the yellow light thrown by the cheap Edison hanging above us. We had to endure yet another minute of stunned silence...something that had become a repeated exercise that night. No one offered any opinion. Our watchman, a 40 something guy who possessed none of the traits that a watchman should have, had a stricken look on his face. Thankfully, one of the others said that we'd better go up and have a look. I didn't like it at all though I knew that that was the right thing to do. So we traipsed up the bloody stairs wondering what lay above us.
There was no light at the terrace and we had to contend with the eerie lights of our mobiles. We slowly went around the whole place looking for any people left behind or more blood. People, there weren't any, but blood, yes. At numerous places throughout the terrace, there were drops of blood and the scene looked more ghastly, looking through the light from our Nokia's and Sony's. We didn't know what to do, we looked at the others for advice. One man suggested we call the police. Sensing that it was the sensible thing to do, my friend called the nearest police station. A person from the police fraternity picked up the call. He seemed drunk but listened attentively. And promised he would send a couple of people right away. We came down and looked around the cellar. More blood. The guy, whoever he was, seemed to have been battered around quite a bit. We went out of the apartment and stood near the gate on the road outside. I looked at the time on my mobile. It was close to half past one. I sighed, remembering that I had to rush off to work tomorrow. But what the heck, you don't experience things like these every day. What more lay in store for us?
All around us, in the dead of night, people in bed were either snoring away or doing something productive while we were standing almost next to the dead waiting for the police to investigate a screeching bloody intruder. While waiting in the semi dark on the road under the slightly larger but just as cheap street light, I couldn't help but vent my raging doubts inside me about the whole thing. I turned to my still stricken watchman and asked him simple and straight if they had had any such noisy episodes in the past. He almost too vehemently denied any such happening before. I knew I was barking up the wrong memory. He was a very incompetent man, leave alone watchman. So I posed the same query to the other people, the men not the boys amongst us. They replied with the same denial minus the vehemence though. I couldn't keep it in any longer.
"I'm asking about the cemetery....did any disturbance originate from that source"?I asked trying hard to keep my tone from sounding too girlish.
The men smiled and replied I hoped at the time truthfully, "No". While I was ruminating over the honesty of these respectable men and while the other people who lived on the road either were sleeping or again doing something productive, we heard the roar/rumble/rattle of the erstwhile Indian Police vehicle-the Mahindra Jeep. As the vehicle tugged on towards us, with smoke seeming to come out of every corner of the vehicle, we were left wondering as to what this much criticised and notoriously incompetent branch of the IPS would do to offer any semblance of meaning to the apparently senseless and mysterious incident. How wrong we were man, how bloody wrong!!
As the vehicle halted to a clumsy stop, we almost gaped at the sight before us. There seemed to be at least close to a dozen khaki law enforcers in that ancient vehicle. All we did was report a mysterious incident! What on earth were so many policemen doing at our place? Yes, of course! Only that day the Ayodhya verdict had come out. Not surprisingly, they were jumpy and didn't want to take any chances.
Out came the guys, some too conspicuously drunk, almost staggering while the rest seemed sleepy. But the best...it was saved for the last, people. A monster of a man emerged from the Jeep, still smartly dressed even at the late hour, minus the cap though, wielding the most ferocious looking piece of wood I had ever set my eyes on. A bit of history here. About a couple of years back, while jumping around with half of the city on Dec 31st at our good ol' beach road at Vizag, my innocent shins among many others were caned mercilessly by a lathi. So I had an inkling of what a lathi was capable of and why even after Kalashnikov's and AK 47's were deemed as modern deadly arm ware, the police still arm themselves with this simple, uncomplicated yet beastly weapon. This particular man though had the meanest looking lathi. That piece of wood looked like it could beat your bones to a pulp with a single strike. However, it was only an accessory to the mean, mean policeman.
The Circle Inspector of the Crime Department and looking every part that. Over six feet, a hefty build coupled with muscle at all the right places and a severed head, yes, not a single strand of hair on his scalp. He was dark and looked like he came from the dark. I was instantly reminded of the police villains of yesteryear Telugu cinema. Boy, I thought, let the games begin!!!
It was crystal clear that he was the guy in charge. He gave his lathi to a young constable beside and almost charged towards us. He went straight for our watchman. I promise I have never seen a grown man cower so timidly before a younger person. For, our watchman, that incompetent man I had talked about previously was almost shaking with fright. The CI towered over him and asked a simple question, "What happened"? It easily must have shaken awake a dozen sleeping people in the apartments on the street. True to his behaviour, our watchman blabbered incoherently much to the anger of the CI. He nevertheless listened for a while, made out that there was an intruder and asked him in that thunderous voice of his, "Did you see anyone go up after you had bolted the gates"?
The stupid guy promptly replied, "I saw someone run out of the apartment building".
The CI was patient enough, asked again, "Did you see anyone go up"?
We were aghast at the audacity of the imbecile, "I saw someone run out of the apartment building".
The seething CI raised his arm and the trajectory was about to complete its deadly course and crash on the watchman when he shouted pleading, "I'm sorry...I'm sorry...I was asleep!!!" The CI did not finish what he had started to do, physically. But he started on a barrage of expletives that was most remarkable....permutations and combinations of all the foul language, correct in grammar, awful in meaning...it made us choke in fright and disgust. The watchman looked ready to fall down to his knees. This was when the mobile phone saved him. The CI's cell rang with a screeching tone and he went to attend to it. Having got a reprieve, we looked at each other while the watchman looked at his feet.
After about a conversation which mostly involved the CI listening and replying with a frequent "Yes,Sir", "Yes, Sir", he finally came back to us. Armed with a glint in his eye in place of the lathi, he asked a definitive question, "Who is Hemanth here"? A guy from one of the other bachelor rooms replied almost trembling, "Ee..It's me Sir".
He barked, "Band ekku ra!!!!"**
Repetitive though it as it might sound, I would have to say again...we were stunned,stupefied,shocked....consult a thesaurus.
** Get in the bloody jeep!!!
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