Killer.

                    The monster licked his tiny lips in feverish anticipation. He had experienced euphoria on the cusp of victories before. This though would be different. His defining moment of bloody retribution, victory and honour was at hand.
                    Glowering through his sharp slit-like eyes, he watched his adversary’s movements. Killer was going to employ his valuable research and the strength of his deadly weapon to the ultimate test tonight.
                    He envied the sleight of hand his enemy possessed, a quality impossible for the Killer to attain. Perched at the vantage point, he heard the siren sound. The moment of reckoning was nigh.
                    In a short while, he would draw first blood. The siren would tell of his victory. If it rang on even after the battle, the Killer would have lost. His plan was to silence it for the night.
                    Gliding through the fence that separated the two sides, he hovered about the northern part of the territory waiting for the siren to fall into a rhythm. Now!!! Killer attacked, penetrating deep...maybe a little too deep. But the moment had gotten to him. His weapon having left an indelible mark on enemy land, he retreated and waited for the recoil.
                    It came, brutal as on previous occasions. This time though, he dodged the weapons at him with guile and moved to the South for the kill.
                    Approaching the twin mounds ahead, Killer swooped in and attacked with unearthly rage. His enemy tried to counter attack but he was already out of there. The battle, at last had been won.
                    Back at his camp, he waited long for the siren. It was not to be heard. With a satisfied heart and a bellyful of blood, he sucked gleefully at the blood in the way only a happy mosquito can.

Alice.

                     He looked at himself in the mirror. Truth be told(he was always honest, especially to himself), he didn't like what he was looking at. All the wrong shapes at all the wrong places. He let out a heavy sigh. It travelled through the dejected air in front of him and crashed against the unhelpful mirror in front of him, condensed vapour. Even at that moment of awkward self-consciousness, he ticked off yet another totally useless thing he was good at. Apparently, sighing heavily. Phew!!
                     The lazy bum that he was, he actually felt tired after that record-breaking, mirror-kissing sigh. He retraced his steps from the discouraging mirror on the wall and into the inviting arms of his lover.
                     As he snuggled up to her, he felt pangs of ecstasy hit him from head to toe. He reached in closer and gave himself up to her. Deliciously enthralling. In the past one year, since the time he had come to know and fall in love with her, she had never once shunned away from him. Her grip, vice-like and orgasmic was the fuel that charged his otherwise drab existence. Though he was one prone to a lot of doubts and possessing a fickle mind, there was one thing he was absolutely sure of. She was magical.
                     Blissfully ignorant and stupid as he was, he had always thought that as sure as the glaciers above were slowly melting, the Earth below gradually shifting and his waistline with time enlarging, so would the love of his life make her way to his doorstep one beautiful day. Probably it might rain that day, he thought...small yellow flowers might dance in through his window and settle on his shoulder. Well, he was just too lazy to go searching for love, and hence foolishly believed that it would come right up to his door and take over his life. Needless to say, for years, all he picked up at his door were cartons of warm milk, boxes of cold pizza and the scandalous newspaper. Wait, but Alice.
                     True, she didn't get delivered to his door like a present from Santa would have. But on accosting her one beautiful day(when it neither rained nor did yellow flowers start to fall around), he had brought her through that very door and had closed it behind him with a thud and some finality. His soulmate had finally come home. The pizza would taste better now regardless of how cold it was. Oh...Alice!!
                     His love making was rudely interrupted by the doorbell. It was going off frantically as if in a hurry. Startled and mildly irritated, he recalled that his room mate was not home and that he had to go get it. He reluctantly let go of her embrace and went to get the door. She as always didn't complain. And at the door, he saw a stranger in front of him.
                     In the ensuing conversation, he learned that the stranger was a friend of his room mate's, visiting town and that he needed a place to crash until night when he would be on his way to catch a train. The stranger didn't wait for a directive, he barged in after the concise conversation and right into our protagonist's room. The room with Alice in it.
                     Our hero was momentarily rattled. He quickly placed a call to his roomie demanding an explanation for the rude interruption and the entrance of a stranger into his own room. He sounded unreasonable and his room mate tersely told him to cool down and employ a level head. He told him that since the stranger was new, he wouldn't obviously know which room to occupy and went into the first one he encountered. Yes, he understood that being a room mate of his for a year now, he himself had seldom gone to our hero's room but pleaded him to understand and forgive the rather brazen assault of his friend. And no, he was not going to be home for a while. Exasperated at the lengthy monologue, our protagonist's friend ended the call on a cautious note as to keep one eye on his visiting friend and the other on the valuables in the room, as he had in the past shown to have a penchant for collecting things that he liked irrespective of whether they belonged to him or to anyone he knew.
                     He started pacing the other room. The intruder seemed to be taking a bath. Once he had clocked around a few hundred circles around the room, he decided that he needed a breath of fresh air. Out he went.
                     The air did wonders to him. He felt much relaxed after sauntering about for an hour and actually contemplated watching a movie that was playing nearby. After all, rude and brash though he maybe, the stranger wouldn't dare touch dear old Alice, would he? But then again, being the doubtful Thomas that he was, he recalled the warning his room mate had given him. Hmm..he would not mind a guy borrowing a pack of cigarettes or a can of body spray. He would not touch Alice, he knew. After all, she does not belong to the league of things that you can just...you know...borrow! Little did he know that his decision to watch a cluster of moving images at that important hour would propel a horrendous movement back home. He had just trespassed over the line that separated everyday foolishness and outrageously absurb foolishness.
                     By the time he stood in line for the tickets, he felt relatively calm. True, the urban gypsy might have instinctively barged right into the room with Alice in it but by now he must have moved to the other. He would be a sensible person, right?
                     The movie with its light moments was enjoyable. The change had been complete and as he strutted back to his room. As the final rays of sunlight disappeared below the skyline, and the shadows lengthened, his inhibitions receded. He inhaled the cool evening air deeply and looked forward to mount his lover once he was back home.
                     Now, our protagonist's ever undecided wavering mind had an intuitive corner to it. He relied on his instincts, though they usually didn't need to be used very often owing to the fact that he led a rather uninteresting life. Relaxed and composed as he walked back, on one look at his room however, he knew something was not right. Trying hard not to panic and screech as a result, he charged into his room looking for the wandering stranger. Looked left and right. And again. No sight of him. But wait, something else was missing.
                     He suffered a mild stroke. Clutching his chest, he realised that Alice was missing too!Betrayal in broad daylight! How foolish he had been! How foolish he had been watching a romantic comedy when the great escape was being orchestrated!!
                     With trembling hands and a heart close to seizure, he dialled his room mate and in gasps and spurts, tried to find out the train his friend was supposed to catch. Having got the information, he bolted for the door, hailed the next auto on its way and started praying.
                     The three legged being huffed and puffed its way agonizingly late to the train station. Once it stopped at the kerb, he made a run for it. Jostling past men with worried expressions, women with suitcases and children with candy, he looked about wildly for a sight of the newest villain in his life. The train meanwhile started to move. Close to tears now, he picked up pace all the while trying to catch a glimpse of the fleeing party. Finally at one of the train's windows, he caught sight of his Alice. She looked as if she was fine with the whole thing, almost nonchalant in a heart breaking way.
                     Without thinking, he leapt onto the train and started running towards her. He would not let her go, he thought. No, not without a fight, at least. He would bring her back, and though possessive as it may sound, he was going to keep her forever.
                     He finally got to them. He gave the nastiest look he could muster to the villain and picked up Alice in his arms as if she were a lost child and made for the door. The train had picked up a bit of speed by now. He stood, only momentarily at the door, closed his eyes and jumped with her onto the last stretch of the platform.
                     Commuters on the train that day and visitors on the platform were amused at the sight of a guy with tear strewn eyes and a wildly pleased look jumping from a moving train onto the platform. Clutching a lovely mattress in his arms. One with beautiful yellow flowers and blue clouds pouring rain.

I'm Nobody's Weasel

                           My first French film was ahem...one of those. "One of those" was a French reel without subtitles but a lot of action. I guess you get it. Anyway, after a long long time, during a period when I was not even getting the time to even sit down, grab a snack, enjoy a great film, I chanced upon this remarkable film that is truly sensational and every bit out of the ordinary. A friend of mine at work says that I get too excited and passionate about little things that I like...guess that's true..but this excellent work of art deserves every accolade it can get.
                           Audrey Tatou is a French actor that I first met when I saw that terrible let down, "The DaVinci Code". She was dressed immaculately in a business suit and though I was mildly attracted to her sensuous voice and accent, the disgust at the appalling rendition made of the decent book onto the silver screen got more of my attention rather than anything else.
                           In "Amelie", however, this girl has shown what life in its glorious form is all about. Cynical of life and everything around you, too tired or busy to stand and stare at the little objects of delight of life...? Watch "Amelie". It has the delightful potential to transform your jaded existence into one of wonder and humour, probably even encourage you to spend your precious time marvelling at all those little things in life that we so often choose to overlook or neglect and in the process, wash away the transient troubles this life has to offer. Woo...the girl at work was right, wasn't she? I've got myself too excited.
                           Amelie wins you over with everything that she does. Her secret habit of plunging her hands into sacks of grain and closing her eyes in near orgasmic ecstasy, her refusal to do things that any "normal girl" will do, the way she kisses her man in a most endearing fashion towards the end of the movie....all..all of them, marvellous pieces of characterization that I guess only those as artfully inclined as the French can possibly muster.

                           There are a host of other unforgettable characters in the film, but I cannot possibly refrain from writing more about our protagonist. She helps out people in the most unlikely fashion ever, getting pleasure out of the jubilant reactions of those people rather than gratitude towards her. Such naivety that only Amelie can manage. Her vibrant, vivid and sometimes absurd imagination is another wonderful aspect of the film's script. A passage in the movie showing her imagination to be most singular will leave you wonderfully amused and make you laugh your heart out.
                           I can go on and on, but that would only be me donning the hat of a spoilsport. I wont do that. That is a terminal sin. And most importantly, Amelie herself would not approve. You should watch the movie, and please do watch it with the maximum concentration you can manage without any distraction. Cos it simply demands it and I promise you my friend, you will not be disappointed.
                           During one of the many fascinating passages that this movie is infested with, the concierge at the apartment that Amelie lives in talks passionately of her long gone husband who used to call her " his weasel". Amelie responds by rolling her eyes with the faint tinge of a smile on her face. To a question posed to Amelie by the concierge asking her if she had ever been lovingly called that way, Amelie responds with childlike innocence and a certain sadness, "I'm nobody's weasel".
                           Actually darling, that's not true. Love you lots. You're the best.

What Just Happened...? Part 4

                                 Hemanth had been with us the whole time. We had actually asked the others, albeit not with as much venom as the CI could muster if they knew anything about the whole incident before we call the police. None replied in the affirmative, so we went ahead with the call to the law enforcers. I had previously come to the frightening conclusion as to the reason for the happening of the whole episode. Some guy who thought he had one too many balls had gone up to the terrace overlooking the cemetery and must have been sleeping, drinking whatever. Fuelled by my imagination, this thought led onto the sensational one that he had seen/encountered something out of the ordinary which freaked out the poor guy. In his obviously frantic attempt to run away from the apparition(?), he had been clumsy and must have either fallen or hurt himself after having struck something on the way, which explains all the blood. True, the theory had its gaping holes, but I was not thinking of those. Such things, I knew...humans, even the police could do nothing about. We didn't know what to expect from the police when they trudged towards us in the Jeep, but certainly this clear pin-pointed accusation was totally unprecedented.
                                All of us looked at him in shock. The guy seemed genuinely shocked too, but he could have been acting the part of his life. He was pleading with the police that he didn't know a thing. The CI looked at him for a second and impulsively looked at the rest and asked, "Take me to the terrace!"
                                So the entire bandwagon started up again. A friend of mine who was very very awed by the CI went over to him offering to take pics of all the blood strewn places on our way. The CI thought it was a good idea and asked him to do so. My friend obliged all the way, all the while beaming like the morning sun that was due in about a couple of hours. Anyway, we tried to explain all that had happened to the police as we went up slowly, showing the blood and illustrating the episode. He didn't say much but did not take his eyes off Hemanth and our hapless watchman. As we neared our flat, my enthusiastic friend offered to demonstrate what he THOUGHT had happened outside our door. He duly went up the flight of stairs leading to the terrace, made a good job of acting scared and flew down the stairs. While turning around to to take the next flight of stairs right beside our door, he made a shoddy job of falling on our door while doing so. That, he declared was why we heard the thud, sound on our door. I had a couple of doubts about it all, but didn't want to spoil his portrayal of the scared sprinter. He wanted to seize the oppurtunity to display his repertoire in method acting. We simply didn't care.
                                Once on the terrace and after having shown everything, the CI summoned Hemanth and asked him if he knew a couple of guys giving him their names. The manner in which he asked questions, even such simple ones really made us think again of the incompetence of the police. Surely, this man, notwithstanding all the foul mouthed language, knew how to deal with crime. Dint have a single doubt about that. Hemanth replied that he knew them and as the conversation went on, we could make out that these two guys once stayed at the apartment and still frequently came to our place. They had come that very evening according to Hemanth and he had had a rendezvous with them. This puzzled us, what did they have to do with all of this? We wanted to ask the CI but couldn't muster up enough courage.
                                 As it was nearing 3 AM, the defining moment of the entire night came upon us. The CI after having taken our names and numbers, went back to the watchman and asked him, again a very simple question. "When did this actually happen?"
                                 The moron replied, "Why sir, just about 10-15 minutes ago".
                                 We sang out in unison, "Sir, it's been almost three hours, sir...".
                                 The CI looked back at him and seemed to be searching for words to say . After about a minute of staring, even the loudmouthed CI had to give up. Such was the foolishness of our watchman. Legendary.
                                 He instructed a constable beside him to take Hemanth and follow him. We could see the investigation seemed to have come to an end. The constable shouted into the night, "Ramesh, take him into CUSTODY" with the last word spelt with much emphasis. Hearing the orders being barked akin to a guy being taken to the deathrow, Hemanth was close to tears.
                                Once back on the road, the CI said that their work was done and he was about to go back into the Jeep. In the background, the other policemen were standing around giving poses to my over awed mobile camera happy friend. The scene looked so out of tune. To the CI's query as to what they were doing, they replied, "Sir, we have just been to an investigation. We need to take pictures with us right!!?" Indian Police!! And so, they went off, with a new passenger in their already congested ancient vehicle. As the vehicle went away spewing dust, we looked at each other, What Just Happened??
                                The epilogue to the whole episode was delivered the next evening by Hemanth himself. The two guys he was asked about the previous night had had an argument that night, and it resulted with one guy stabbing the other. Now the other guy in his bloody ordeal came running for Hemanth but forgot the flat he stayed in. Apparently, he came all the way to the terrace, realised that there were no more floors above, panicked and ran away the same way he had come. Luckily, on the road while running, he accosted the police station and went in to lodge a compliant. In that complaint, he named Hemanth too. The exciting part was that that was exactly the time the police team came to us. The call to the CI was the key to all of us this. In all, it ended that way. An inexplicable episode explained rather simply in the end.
                                 I had mixed emotions on hearing it. Relieved to know that it was a mere stabbing and nothing more, but at the same time disappointed that there was nothing otherworldy like in the X Files!! No apparitions, no ghostly tinge to the incident. A very human and normal episode in fact. Anyway, I consoled myself, at least it was an exciting encounter if nothing else.

                                After this episode:

We Room mates: We try to open our door at the first knock.
Eager friend: Uploaded bloody pics to facebook.
Hemanth: Wary of every guy who comes to meet him and terrified of khaki wearing people, Auto drivers included.
Bloody guy: Went through treatment worth a lakh of rupees!!
Our opinion of the IPS: Slightly bettered
Watchman: Being tortured every night by the nightly patrol team. (They visit every night and shout out his name, shaking him awake). Sadly, it hasn't helped with the foolishness though.

What Just Happened...? Part 3

                                  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!!!