Mera Naam Hai ~ ~ TiTu

Remember the song in a movie called Kati Patang which went “Mera Naam Hai Shabnam”.  Hmmm I thought Bindu looked hot and Asha Parekh seriously lost in the life and charisma department.  However that is not what this blog post is about ….

It is a prayer of thanks to Godji for giving my folks enough grey matter to not name me Pinky, Tiny, Teetu, Pappu or whatever the eff  Punjabi folk name their kids.  Yesterday the car door got mended and the mechanic who did this was an obese and unkempt looking surd called Lovely

I am sure when he was a kid, growing up and committing parenticide must have featured hugely in his list of things to do.  Why dont they have a system wherein the kid gets to have a say in what he/she is named?

We have auto rickshaws proclaiming Tiny Tey Dolly Di Gaddi .  Tiny grows up to be 6 feet and huge, Dolly brought up on aloo paranthas and butter is nothing like a fragile doll.  We also have the evergreen names i.e. Pappu, Pinky, Jolly and Teetu.

Teetu or Titu whatever has played an interesting role – like the proverbial joker, he slips into a few significant incidents to make the game.

I have a cousin who was not at all academic.  Cousin V would threaten to commit suicide or run away if any one scolded him for failing or getting bad marks.  I mean his threats were at times dangerous and at times wild and creative.  So were his excuses.  If he spent a fraction of that ingenuity in trying to clear his papers he could have been home free.  But it would not have been fun.

Example :  All kids washed and dressed for dinner with report cards in hand waiting for the signature of the parents.  His turn came before ours since he was about 7 years older ….

Uncle solemnly enquired : Hor, Kiddan Kitta Paper ? (And how did you fare?)

Cousin V : Blurting out while handing his report card : Titu vi fail ho gaya.   (Titu also failed!)

Uncle : Slightly distracted : Keda Titu? (Which Titu)

Cousin V : Pointing at the hapless cousin S next in line : Titu – the one who stays four houses away, this one’s particular friend (quickly snatching the next cousin’s report and thrusting that into his father’s hands and slinking away)

Well he went without dinner and the entire evening was spent discussing how to punish him and we got off easy.

God bless Titu and Cousin V

Some years ago, a few of us cousins with kids in tow went on a bus journey to Chandigarh.  The bus stops for a longish while mid way where every one stretches their legs, visits the wash rooms etc.

One of my cousins’ wife had to nurse her baby and she went into a secluded rest room for that.  This took a bit of time.  The bus driver and conductor started getting restive.  One of the kids was sent after the mother and baby duo

Ripe for mischief and in no mood to hearing the driver grumble, the rest of the gang started creating a huge noise

Titu Oyye

Titu Oyyye

Oyyye Kithey Gaya Titu????

Titu Oyyye!!

One of the co-passengers asked “Who is Titu?”

They happily lied – “He was sitting here, just started talking to him.  We dont know him but he may have left his luggage here ….”

There was some tension as to unattended luggage that made the driver and conductor search the bus.  It took 15 minutes in which other well wishers joined in

Titu Oyyye!

Soon we had the entire bus looking for  the mythical Titu

Meanwhile the kids got the mother and infant duo back in the bus unnoticed.  The cousins regretfully abandoned their search for the mythical Titu

The bus left for Chandigarh.

Well – now we simply charter a bus.  Its way more simpler!

P.S. (This is a small adaptation of ideas I am working into a book that I am writing.  Do you think such tales will sell?  Need some feedback)

College Reunion, A 55er

Ignoring her, they gathered in a corner sipping their chai, envy making them bond in bitchiness. Desperately they hunted for flaws in her life. Why did she have everything, rich husband, young lover, and perfect kids? How did she manage to remain slim and wrinkle free?

How dare she highlight their flaws by showing up?

Moonlings are petrified

(Thanks Taposh!)

Moonlings are petrified

 

Top Moon officials are running scared,

The President of the planet Moon

Called a High Alert meeting at noon

To tell the cabinet members “Beware”

 

These aliens are singing a dangerous tune

Once they called sweethearts fair as moon

Then they said they landed a man on our dune

But these Indians will now send a huge platoon

 

Of farmers, engineers, scientists and IT experts,

Of netas and godmen, tantrics and astrologers

Since ISRO, that nasty meddling egoistic brood

Found moon-water, and now wants to grow food

 

These aliens have a horrible track record

They messed their rivers, land they scarred

They killed their trees, air they soured

They’ll tear our tiny wee planet apart!

 

One cabinet minister, she was un-moonly

Was deep in thought as she interjected

Your Moon-ness, I think its way too early

To get alarmed, scared or feel dejected

 

Earthlings have in common one salient trait

They don’t take chances, love to delegate

Netas will not risk their precious lives

Without taking their godmen’s advise

 

Since all of their prominent astrological charts

With the reference of the moon’s position starts

Until they find another planet, and build their theory

Farming on the moon will just remain a likely story

Perceptions : Love or Compromise 55er

He was forty and successful and powerful.  She, his mistress, was 21, mother of twins and abandoned.  For her he was a meal ticket, for him she was lust and rewards of success. Thirty years later, he’s old, lonely cocooned in wealth, she loves him, but loves her family more – its young and lively

55 worder for the petrol price rise

“Hurry up, let’s go”

“Where?” He asked, sipping his evening tea

“Petrol prices are rising, we need to fill the car”, she was wearing her shoes

“How much will we save” he grumbled

Bright smile and a reply “One more movie this month”

He smiled, tiredness forgotten as he fell in love with her again

Links to my CBSE Stories

On popular demand, links to my stories published my CBSE

The Ghost on the  Boundary Wall

Monkeys have no sense of humour

These are currently being taught to Class XII students of English Creative Writing

And then she died …. finally

Funny, I seem to remember the plastic chairs as red!  Oh no, they were red when my daughter was born.  I remember her, squalling angry red faced horror.  I hated her on sight.  Yeah ….. she grew up into a demanding shrew, married that gay kind of person.   Hate him too!  What she needed was a rogue to keep her in line!  Humph!

Yes, they have all come.  Elder son with his butch looking wife, younger son with his empty headed timid wife.  Elder son …. pompous  and never amounting to much.  Yeah, Himself had great hopes from him.  I could have told him this one thinks too much of himself.  Look at him now ……. hen pecked and bullied by his daughters!   Will never do any great stuff.  Younger son ……we loved him so much, but he was only good at sweet talking the ladies.  Now sells used cars.  Is it a profession?  It is cheating!  And his wife, hahahahaha, jumps if any one so much as looks at her.  But younger son married her … for her father’s money.  I know – he thinks I am too stupid to realize it.

I can sense the embarrassment!  They hover around me, exchange glances …. wonder if they should be talking to me, wonder if they are getting it right … wonder if I can hear them

I can sense the embarassment!  They wish they could cry or express grief, they whisper, shuffle, look out of the window

Ahhh I am experienced.  Have watched older ones leave.  Birth is brutal, painful and exciting …. a new person coming into this world.  Death ….. death is boring.  Smartest to be gone in the night in sleep.  Spare every one the wait.

Simply hand over the baton to the next generation.  My children, they clung to me when they were younger.  My smile brought them joy, frowns despair.  Now they sit on plastic chairs and glance furtively at their watches.  They wish I get on with it.  Oh I have lived too long.  They won’t cry!  They’ll get out tattered albums one day ……… does any one have albums any more?  They’ll laugh and comment “Oh look at me!  I had such a silly hair cut those days!”  No one will miss me ..

They’ll grieve – a bit.  I understand.  Been there done that!  We share the same genetics ……

There will be full attendance at the cremation ….. nahin toh log kya kahenge, they will be properly attired in white kurtas and pajamas.  There will be a chautha, a terhvan

Then they’ll get my things out, throw my clothes into cartons for the poor people.  They’ll wonder about the amount of books I managed to collect.  They’ll fight over the jewelery, their spouses trying to control them, trying to cool them down, getting them to make up.  But these three …….. hehehehe, aging balding 6 year olds in a sibling fight.

Been there done that!  I understand ….. the same genetics.

Spoils will be divided, a last meal had together while they plan the latest car, the new furniture out of the proceeds!  Death leaves us richer – materially

I understand.

I wont make a scene.  Just go out for a cup of tea.  Dont hover over me.  I’ll do it.  I do care for you my dears

I’ll cross over without any fuss

Just leave

I’ll                                      just                     do         what I                    have                to

Crime Files IX (Revised)

I was not satisfied with the ending of that story, was upset since I knew someone who died in the Mumbai Taj that horrible night.  Anyway I sat down and revised it.  Request feedback please

 

The passenger seats of the Qualis were so designed that the passengers faced each other.  Meenal glared at Vipin and took over, trying to reassure Tara Desai. 

 

Tara ji, please, can I call you Taraji.  We are not kidnappers, we are doctors.  Vipin is a cardiologist and I am Dr. Meenal, a psychiatrist.  We want to help you and your husband.

 

Tara looked around.  There was a driver and a security man in the front seat of the car.  Vipin was sitting next to her and  this lady who said she was a doctor was sitting opposite her.  She was sobbing bitterly. Vipin handed her a box of tissues and instructed the driver

 

Outer Circle ke chakkar lete raho

 

I don’t know what to say

 

Vipin just said “Madam please read the file”

 

She tried to control herself and read the file.  It contained reactions of readers of Shirish’s novels and also the opinions of their loved ones.  Fresh tears broke out.  She was a timid person, easily bullied by people stronger than her. 

 

What can I say?  What do I do?

 

Can you tell us exactly what is your husband suffering from?  What does your doctor say? , Meenal asked gently

 

We have a GP, a family doctor.  He says Shrish is overstressed and needs to stop writing.  Ashwin, my brother is his agent.  He does not agree.  Shirish wants to keep writing.  He gets violent when I try to stop him.  Yesterday night he turned violent while writing.

 

“You say he turned violent”, asked Meenal taking Tara’s hands in hers.  ”Tell me”

 

Tara started speaking.  She had a lot bottled inside her.  She spoke her heart out, her worries, her concern for her husband, her fear, her pain at watching Shirish deteriorate, her anger that her brother did not share her emotion.

 

Meenal said “Taraji, I have some colleagues in NIMHANS.  I would like your husband to be brought to the hospital and we can take care of him.  He will be safe there”.

 

He never will, and Ashwin won’t let him

 

“You have to try”, said Vipin firmly, as he instructed the driver to drive to the Café.  ”If you can get through to him, he will remain a historical writer of repute, otherwise he will be known as a mad man with dangerous powers”.

 

Meenal said angrily “Vipin”

He was relentless.  ”Madam what does he get, some kind of sick pleasure by messing with the brains of the people who read his books?”

 

Tara got very angry.  ”You don’t know Shirish.  He was shy, quiet, a thorough gentleman, and then …….. 

 

What happened?  Tell us more. 

 

“I have to go home” she said, shaking her head, “My husband is not well”

 

Vipin said firmly,

 

“Madam tell your driver to follow our car, we will accompany you to your home” and when she looked unsure, he added “You can tell anyone who asks that we are fans”

 

Tara looked at them pleadingly and whispered “He says he hears people who force him to write their stories.  Once I took away all the writing material and he nearly killed himself”

 

Meenal looked worried.  She said “Madam, Hearing voices is considered by clinical psychiatry as an auditory hallucination and as a symptom of conditions such as schizophrenic disorders, manic depression and psychosis. I am surprised that a competent psychiatrist was not called in to treat your husband” 

 

Tara looked cornered.  She spoke “My brother and the doctor told me it was stress”

 

Meenal said  ”I understand Taraji. Hearing voices can be a very disturbing experience, both for the person who hears voices and family and friends .  Moreover, it appears that your husband feels the voices he hears have control over him.  It can be a stressful experience coping with such a patient, not to mention dangerous for the patient can attack his care-givers”.

 

She then added, “I have informed the doctors at NIMHANS and they are apprehensive that your husband may harm himself and others.  We request you to kindly give us permission to take him to the hospital where he will be safe and get proper treatment”.

 

Day 4, 8 p.m., Desai Residence

 

It was a simply constructed double storey house, noted Vipin, as then entered. 

 

Tara asked a servant “Bhai Sahib kahan hain?”

 

“Bahar gaye hain” was the reply

 

Meenal exchanged surprised looks with Vipin – this woman asked for her brother, not her husband who was ill.

 

“Tara” came a querulous voice from somewhere in the first floor.

 

“Coming Shirish” she answered.  ”I’ll be up in a moment”.

 

A thin, pale bespectacled man came to the stairs limping.  He started coming down blinking curiously at the new faces.

 

Kaun hai?  Tara, where were you? 

 

Tara was trembling by now.  She said quickly, “I had gone to the mandir.  I have brought you Prasad.  I thought I would bring it up with your dinner”

 

Shirish was looking at Meenal and Vipin, as he limped down the stairs into the hall.  Vipin walked up to the author and introduced himself

 

“Sir, I am Dr. Vipin Chaddha and this is Dr. Meenal Vashisht.  It is a pleasure to meet you.  My Didi is a very big fan of yours”.

 

Shirish limped to the sofa and sat down inviting them to sit with a gesture.  Meenal sat down quietly to observe.  She did not approve of the steps Vipin was taking, but both Vipin and the minister were angry at what had happened.  Moreover, the SHO of Noida had been contacted on the phone.  The man was frustrated and angry.  He went far enough to say dire things about JAADU-TONA, which had freaked the minister’s mother who was now getting the house purified by tantrics.  She could understand why he was being pushy, though she felt uncomfortable.

 

All human beings are superstitious, even if they profess to be rational and scientific.  She could not give a rationale explanation for what had occurred in Noida and Panchkula.  The man looked weak and bookish. His writing had proved powerful beyond the rational world!

 

Vipin had started a polite conversation about the Desai books and the author’s fascination with Rajasthan. The living room was full of paintings and knick knacks from Rajasthan.  Shirish was smiling gently as he said

 

“My wife painted some scenes for my books.  We got the original paintings framed and they are hanging here”

 

There was a pause as tea was served.  Vipin asked

 

I hear you are not well.  The stress of writing is getting to you?

 

Desai carefully put his tea cup down and said in a stronger voice “There is no stress in writing”

 

Ashwin burst into the room in anger.  He had been shocked when he saw the ministerial Qualis parked outside.  Someone was invading what he considered his turf and meal ticket.  He shouted

 

“Shirish these people have come to take you away.  These people will not let you write.  They will lock you up and keep you away from your work!”

 

The writer reacted with astonishing speed.  He sprang up and ran to the wall that was adorned with an antique sword and shield and ripped them off.  His stance was catlike, of a person who was an adept fighter.

 

Tara screamed “Shiirriiiiiiiiiiiish”!  Ashwin don’t do this.  They only want to help!

 

Vipin yelled “Meenal, take her out with you”

 

Ashwin continued to add fuel to fire

 

“Every one thinks you are mad, Shirish.  Look even my sister, your wife thinks you are mad.  No one recognizes how brilliant you are.  Even Tara …. Your darling wife got these doctors here to take you away!”

 

Meenal did not wait a second, she half dragged, half pulled Tara to the living room door.  The author was screaming filthy abuses at the top of his voice, and when he saw that his wife was escaping, he started throwing things at her, the tray, tea cups, snack bowls, decoration pieces.  A brass artifact hit Tara on her back and she fell.  Meenal ducked, escaping being hit by the edge of a tray and the terrified women crawled out into the porch.

 

The gunman and driver along with the policemen were looking towards the house.  When they saw the servants and the women flee, they jumped into action.  Meenal shouted after them,

 

Stop that man, Ashwin.  Bring Mrs. Desai’s brother out.  Bring all of them out safely.  We can help Mr. Desai

 

The men did not stop to listen and they rushed in.  The minister’s brother in law was inside and no one wanted to face the minister’s anger in case something happened to him.

 

Tara was totally shell-shocked and sat down crosslegged in the grass.  Meenal looked at the house, from where they could hear sounds of metal clinking and crashing furniture. 

 

Tara started chanting softly “Please God, Please God, Please God ………., Please God make them stop.  Don’t hurt him. He is not well”

 

Vipin was scared.  The tired mild looking bookish man had transformed in front of his eyes into a lethal warrior, holding a shield in one hand and throwing whatever he could at his wife.  . Even his injury did not hamper the agility he was displaying.  Vipin quickly crouched behind the sofa.  He could hear that idiot Ashwin whipping the writer into greater fury.

 

What happened next was totally unexpected.  Goaded into extreme fury the writer bit his own arm, and started licking the blood.  It drove him over the edge.  Picking up the sword he started thrusting and slashing any and every thing that came in front of him, the curtains, the walls, the windows.  Splinters of wood, shards of glass started flying all over the room.

 

Vipin raised his head, wondering if he should flee or stay and try to overpower the man.  He saw Ashwin walk towards Shirish, still talking, trying to control him

 

“Only I could see your genius.  No one else has ever understood you.  You have to write your stories.  Forget every one, Shirish.  You and I will go away from here.  You can keep writing and I will get your stories printed for the world to read”

 

The man stood swaying on his feet, licking his own blood from his lips.  His eyes were wild and his hair and shirt wet with sweat.  His lips parted in a horribly demented grin and he thrust his sword into his agent’s body.  Ashwin screamed in pain.  That seemed to goad Shirish even more.  He pulled out the sword and thrust it again into the man.

 

There was blood all over.  The cops and his driver and gunman rushed into the room.  Shirish roared with anger and started wielding the sword like an adept. 

Sahib, stay away! Ordered the gunman as he took out his pistol.

Abbey, goli mat marna, yelled Vipin as he pulled down the curtain which was torn by the sword.  

He had some vague plan of trying to catch the sword with the curtain.  The man laughed mockingly and threw a painting at Vipin, who got cut  by the glass pane.  Vipin screamed as he saw Shirish run out of the house – Usko roka, stop him!

Meenal screamed with horror when she saw the writer, covered with blood and armed with a sword emerge from the house.   She pulled Tara up and fled.  They were in the unlit part of the garden, but the gate was too far away.  Tara was looking at her husband horror-struck.  He was laughing.  Before she could react, Meenal whispered “Shut up!” and gave her a shake.

He started casually walking in the lawn.  They could make out in the dim light that the blood was not his.  His bandage was slowly getting red, he was limping but that did not seem to bother him.  He was thrusting the sword into every flower pot, beheading every plant as he slowly approached them.  They shrank back into the hedge praying that he had not seen them.

In the doorway, the gunman took careful aim and shot at the writer’s leg.  The bullet hit its mark and the man collapsed.  Trembling with reaction and relief, Meenal dialed the hospital while the men overpowered the man and disarmed Shirish, and tied him up.  An ambulance was called and the writer was heavily sedated and sent off to NIMHANS.

 

Day 5, 9a.m., Chibber suite, Maurya Sheraton, Delhi, breakfast

 

Meenal was glaring at Vipin and Ramola, giving them a piece of her mind. 

 

“You two owe me big time.  I am a psychiatrist, not a leading character in a thriller.  I do not appreciate being in this situation.”

 

“Sorry Meenal Didi, but you do look after mad people, so I thought you would be okay with this” said Vipin with what he hoped was a winsome smile.

 

“I treat disturbed people, not mad men” said Meenal coldly

 

Ramola said softly ” Meenal Didi, we really appreciate your help”

 

Meenal smiled slightly mollified.  She mock threatened “You owe me big time, young man and I will collect”

 

Alpana said firmly “I am totally with Dr. Meenal, Vipin.  There was no need to do such herogiri”

 

Dee, I did not expect any danger.  We were just going to persuade the writer to agree to some mental exam, that is all.

 

AC was busy on the phone.  He looked up and said “Well, Mr. Desai has regained consciousness and has been given his laptop.  He can continue writing at the hospital.  Mrs. Desai has agreed to not get any further books published”

 

Mrs. Desai is also undergoing treatment.  The poor lady has been under a lot of stress.  The doctors say she is quite relieved right now.

 

What about the dead agent?  enquired Vipin

 

“Justice has been served” said the minister mysteriously.  

 

Ramola and Meenal looked confused.  Alpana shook her head and said ‘Don’t mind him.  He loves to feel important.  Just read the headlines in the paper”

“The renowned writer Shirish Desai, who was suffering some undisclosed illness had slipped from the stairs in his residence.  His agent and brother in law tried valiantly to stop his fall and met with serious injuries and died at the spot.  Mr. Desai is currently in hospital getting treated for his injuries”.

The newspaper went on to list the Desai books.

 

“You know, darling, you can become a writer yourself” said Alpana.

 

“I prefer being a Minister, my love.  Less dangerous”

 

Every one laughed and got busy with breakfast.  They were still eating when Ramola voiced what all were thinking but no one had said

 

“There are so many Desai books in the markets.  I wonder who they will affect next”– 

Crime Files IX

 

The passenger seats of the Qualis were so designed that the passengers faced each other.  Meenal glared at Vipin and took over, trying to reassure Tara Desai. 

 

Tara ji, please, can I call you Taraji.  We are not kidnappers, we are doctors.  Vipin is a cardiologist and I am Dr. Meenal, a psychiatrist.  We want to help you and your husband.

 

Tara looked around.  There was a driver and a security man in the front seat of the car.  Vipin was sitting next to her and  this lady who said she was a doctor was sitting opposite her.  She was sobbing bitterly. Vipin handed her a box of tissues and instructed the driver

 

Outer Circle ke chakkar lete raho

 

I don’t know what to say

 

Vipin just said “Madam please read the file”

 

She tried to control herself and read the file.  It contained reactions of readers of Shirish’s novels and also the opinions of their loved ones.  Fresh tears broke out.  She was a timid person, easily bullied by people stronger than her. 

 

What can I say?  What do I do?

 

Can you tell us exactly what is your husband suffering from?  What does your doctor say? , Meenal asked gently

 

We have a GP, a family doctor.  He says Shrish is overstressed and needs to stop writing.  Ashwin, my brother is his agent.  He does not agree.  Shirish wants to keep writing.  He gets violent when I try to stop him.  Yesterday night he turned violent while writing.

 

“You say he turned violent”, asked Meenal taking Tara’s hands in hers.  “Tell me”

 

Tara started speaking.  She had a lot bottled inside her.  She spoke her heart out, her worries, her concern for her husband, her fear, her pain at watching Shirish deteriorate, her anger that her brother did not share her emotion.

 

Meenal said “Taraji, I have some colleagues in NIMHANS.  I would like your husband to be brought to the hospital and we can take care of him.  He will be safe there”.

 

He never will, and Ashwin won’t let him

 

“You have to try”, said Vipin firmly, as he instructed the driver to drive to the Café.  “If you can get through to him, he will remain a historical writer of repute, otherwise he will be known as a mad man with dangerous powers”.

 

Meenal said angrily “Vipin”

He was relentless.  “Madam what does he get, some kind of sick pleasure by messing with the brains of the people who read his books?”

 

Tara got very angry.  “You don’t know Shirish.  He was shy, quiet, a thorough gentleman, and then …….. 

 

What happened?  Tell us more. 

 

“I have to go home” she said, shaking her head, “My husband is not well”

 

Vipin said firmly,

 

“Madam tell your driver to follow our car, we will accompany you to your home” and when she looked unsure, he added “You can tell anyone who asks that we are fans”

 

Tara looked at them pleadingly and whispered “He says he hears people who force him to write their stories.  Once I took away all the writing material and he nearly killed himself”

 

Meenal looked worried.  She said “Madam, Hearing voices is considered by clinical psychiatry as an auditory hallucination and as a symptom of conditions such as schizophrenic disorders, manic depression and psychosis. I am surprised that a competent psychiatrist was not called in to treat your husband” 

 

Tara looked cornered.  She spoke “My brother and the doctor told me it was stress”

 

Meenal said  “I understand Taraji. Hearing voices can be a very disturbing experience, both for the person who hears voices and family and friends .  Moreover, it appears that your husband feels the voices he hears have control over him.  It can be a stressful experience coping with such a patient, not to mention dangerous for the patient can attack his care-givers”.

 

She then added, “I have informed the doctors at NIMHANS and they are apprehensive that your husband may harm himself and others.  We request you to kindly give us permission to take him to the hospital where he will be safe and get proper treatment”.

 

Day 4, 8 p.m., Desai Residence

 

It was a simply constructed double storey house, noted Vipin, as then entered. 

 

Tara asked a servant “Bhai Sahib kahan hain?”

 

“Bahar gaye hain” was the reply

 

Meenal exchanged surprised looks with Vipin – this woman asked for her brother, not her husband who was ill.

 

“Tara” came a querulous voice from somewhere in the first floor.

 

“Coming Shirish” she answered.  “I’ll be up in a moment”.

 

A thin, pale bespectacled man came to the stairs limping.  He started coming down blinking curiously at the new faces.

 

Kaun hai?  Tara, where were you? 

 

Tara was trembling by now.  She said quickly, “I had gone to the mandir.  I have brought you Prasad.  I thought I would bring it up with your dinner”

 

Shirish was looking at Meenal and Vipin, as he limped down the stairs into the hall.  Vipin walked up to the author and introduced himself

 

“Sir, I am Dr. Vipin Chaddha and this is Dr. Meenal Vashisht.  It is a pleasure to meet you.  My Didi is a very big fan of yours”.

 

Shirish limped to the sofa and sat down inviting them to sit with a gesture.  Meenal sat down quietly to observe.  She did not approve of the steps Vipin was taking, but both Vipin and the minister were angry at what had happened.  Moreover, the SHO of Noida had been contacted on the phone.  The man was frustrated and angry.  He went far enough to say dire things about JAADU-TONA, which had freaked the minister’s mother who was now getting the house purified by tantrics.  She could understand why he was being pushy, though she felt uncomfortable.

 

All human beings are superstitious, even if they profess to be rational and scientific.  She could not give a rationale explanation for what had occurred in Noida and Panchkula.  The man looked weak and bookish.  His writing had proved powerful beyond the rational world!

 

Vipin had started a polite conversation about the Desai books and the author’s fascination with Rajasthan.  The living room was full of paintings and knick knacks from Rajasthan.  Shirish was smiling gently as he said

 

“My wife painted some scenes for my books.  We got the original paintings framed and they are hanging here”

 

There was a pause as tea was served.  Vipin asked

 

I hear you are not well.  The stress of writing is getting to you?

 

Desai carefully put his tea cup down and said in a stronger voice “There is no stress in writing”

 

Ashwin burst into the room in anger.  He had been shocked when he saw the ministerial Qualis parked outside.  He shouted

 

“Shirish these people have come to take you away.  These people will not let you write.  They will lock you up and keep you away from your work!”

 

The man reacted with astonishing speed.  He sprang up and ran to the wall that was adorned with an antique sword and shield and ripped them off.  His stance was catlike, of a person who was an adept fighter.

 

Tara screamed “Shiirriiiiiiiiiiiish”!  Ashwin don’t do this.  They only want to help!

 

Vipin yelled “Meenal, take her out with you”

 

Ashwin continued to add fuel to fire

 

“Every one thinks you are mad, Shirish.  Look even my sister, your wife thinks you are mad.  No one recognizes how brilliant you are.  Even Tara …. Your darling wife got these doctors here to take you away!”

 

Meenal did not wait a second, she half dragged, half pulled Tara to the living room door.  The author was screaming abuses at the top of his voice, and when he saw that his wife was escaping, he started throwing things at her, the tray, tea cups, snack bowls, decoration pieces.  A brass artifact hit Tara on her back and she fell.  Meenal ducked, escaping being hit by the edge of a tray and both women crawled out into the porch.

 

The gunman and driver along with the policemen were looking towards the house.  When they saw the servants and the women flee, they jumped into action.  Meenal shouted after them,

 

Stop that man, Ashwin.  Bring Mrs. Desai’s brother out.  Bring them out safely.  We can help Mr. Desai

 

The men did not stop to listen and they rushed in.  The minister’s brother in law was inside and no one wanted to face the minister’s anger in case something happened to him.

 

Tara was totally shell-shocked and went and sat down crosslegged in the grass.  Meenal looked at the house, from where they could hear sounds of metal clinking and crashing furniture. 

 

Tara started chanting softly “Please God, Please God, Please God ……….. make them stop.  Don’t hurt him.  He is not well”

 

Vipin was scared.  The tired mild looking bookish man had transformed in front of his eyes into a lethal warrior, holding a shield in one hand and throwing whatever he could at his wife.  He quickly crouched behind the sofa.  He could hear  that idiot Ashwin whipping the writer into greater fury.

 

What happened next was totally unexpected.  Goaded into extreme fury the writer bit his own arm, and started licking the blood.  It drove him over the edge.  Picking up the sword he started thrusting and slashing any and every thing that came in front of him.  Splinters of wood, shards of glass started flying all over the room.

 

Vipin raised his head, wondering if he should flee or stay and try to overpower the man.  He saw Ashwin walk towards Shirish, still talking, trying to control him

 

“Only I could see your genius.  No one else has ever understood you.  You have to write your stories.  Forget everyone, I will get your stories printed for the world to read”

 

The man stood swaying on his feet, licking his own blood from his lips.  His eyes were wild and his hair and shirt wet with sweat.  His lips parted in a horribly demented grin and he thrust his sword into his agent’s body.

 

The cops and his driver and gunman saw the opportunity and overpowered the man and disarmed him, and tied him up.  An ambulance was called and the writer was heavily sedated and sent off to NIMHANS, the wounded agent was given first aid and also shipped to a nearby hospital.

 

Day 5, 9a.m., Chibber suite, Maurya Sheraton, Delhi, breakfast

 

Meenal was glaring at Vipin and Ramola, giving them a piece of her mind. 

 

You two owe me big time.  I am a psychiatrist, not a leading character in a thriller.  I do not appreciate being in this situation.

 

“Sorry Meenal Didi, but you do look after mad people, so I thought you would be okay with this” said Vipin with what he hoped was a winsome smile.

 

“I treat disturbed people, not mad men” said Meenal coldly

 

Ramola said softly “ Meenal Didi, we really appreciate your help”

 

Meenal smiled slightly mollified.  She mock threatened “You owe me big time, young man and I will collect”

 

Alpana said firmly “I am totally with Dr. Meenal, Vipin.  There was no need to do such herogiri”

 

Dee, I did not expect any danger.  We were just going to persuade the writer to agree to some mental examination, that is all.

 

AC was busy on the phone.  He looked up and said “Well, Mr. Desai has regained consciousness and has been given his laptop.  He can continue writing at the hospital.  Mrs. Desai has agreed to not get any further books published”

 

Mrs. Desai is also undergoing treatment.  The poor lady has been under a lot of stress.  The doctors say she is quite relieved right now.

 

And her brother?  enquired Vipin

 

“He has certain habits that have to be corrected’ said the minister mysteriously.  “Our men have had a talk with him, and he has agreed to go abroad for treatment”

 

Ramola and Meenal looked confused.  Alpana shook her head and said ‘Don’t mind him.  He loves to feel important.  All this means is that Ashwin has some previous police record and has agreed to leave the country rather than be punished”.

 

Every one was eating when Ramola voiced what all were thinking but no one had said

 

“There are so many Desai books in the markets.  I wonder who they will affect next”

Crime Files VIII

Day 4, 11 a.m., Desai Residence,

It was a sleepless night, but Tara was used to that. She quietly sat in the living room sketching. She loved sketching pretty butterflies and cheerful cartoons. They soothed her soul.  Desert scenes, warriors and desert women disturbed her now. She avoided doing that unless she had to. The household had slowly become normal. Her cellphone rang and she absently picked it up.

Hello.

Is this Tara Desai.

Yes, may I know who’s calling?

Mrs. Desai, this is Vipin Sehgal, calling on behalf of Minister Amrit Chibber from Chandigarh. I would like to talk to you.

I think you need to talk with my husband’s agent, I’ll give you his number

Madam, I have already talked to your brother. If you look outside your house, some policemen are stationed outside your house. Your brother has threatened us last night and the minister does not like threats.

Oh my God! What has Ashwin done? What do you want.

I want to talk to you and Mr. Desai, Madam

My husband is not well.

Madam, can I meet you

I live in Delhi, said Tara stalliing

Madam, Mr. Desai’s publisher has given us all relevant information. That is where I got your number. I know where you live and can be there within an hour if necessary

No, don’t come here. Please don’t.

She was panicking. Ashwin had threatened this Minister, police was watching the house. This was unthinkable.

Collecting herself, she said, “Today is Tuesday and I go to the Hanuman Mandir at 4 in the evening for pooja. Meet me at the mandir.

No madam, I will meet you at 5 p.m. at Starbeans Café at Connaught Place. Do you know where it is?

Yes I do

The phone went dead

Feeling restless, Tara went to the guest room where Shirish was sleeping, drugged, feverish and restless. A male nurse was sitting there watching TV with headphones. She paced around the room aimlessly and then went up to her bedroom.  The broken furniture had been removed and Ashwin was sitting studying the story Shirish was working on. He looked up at her and smiled.

Hi, Tara. I just read the story Shirish is writing right now. I swear, this is going to be the biggest grosser when its done.

The doctor told us that Shirish should be given treatment.  He should not write any more. You know he said that Ashwin.

Uff Tara, stop being fussy. He has many more stories inside him
What about Shirish, Ashwin?

Ashwin shut the laptop and carefully put down the lid
He got up and hugged his sister gently, and said.

I know you are worried. You think I am being selfish. The thing is, Tara, Shirish is a genius. He will be remembered through history as one of the finest historical writer of all times. We have to help him write. If we stop him from writing, he will go mad You tried that once, remember

Tara did remember She had taken away the laptop and locked it up, she had thrown away all writing material. Shirish had started hitting his head against the wall, going more uncontrollable by the minute until he got his laptop

Much later, she had tried to ask him what had happened. The answer was “They want me to tell their stories and get mad if I don’t”

Who are they?

I don’t know

She asked Ashwin who had gone to the window and was looking out

Ashwin I saw some policemen around the house, what is the matter

Ashwin looked out, then turned with a strained smile “Arrey didn’t I tell you? Yesterday there was a theft in the neighbourhood. You don’t worry about it. Just concentrate on getting Shirish well. It does not concern us

Tara was going to tell him about the phone call, but something made her shut up She just smiled weakly and said “You better have your lunch I have my Tuesday fast today”and drifted out

Day 4 , 5 p.m.Starbeans Café at Connaught Place

Tara Desai walked into Starbeans Cafe on foot.  The driver had been instructed to park in front of a saree shop.  She did not like this stealth and deception she was indulging in, but her instinct told her to hide this meeting from her brother who would not like it.  She looked around feeling like a fool.  She did not even know the appearance of the man she had come to meet. An extremely attractive young man, in his early twenties came up to her and said softly
“Mrs. Desai?  she nodded and he introduced himself as he led her to a table at the corner.While the coffee and sandwiches came, they sized each other. Tara saw a determined good looking youth, apparently from a good family.  He in turn saw a skinny middle aged lady, whose anxiety was clear on her face.  Tara fidgeted, took a nervous sip of her coffee and asked

What is this all about?

Vipin told her about the Noida murders, the strange attack on his sister.  He added,

Madam, I have been on the internet all night, and have collected a lot of stories about reactions of fans of your husband’s books.  I can tell you strange stories.  My sister is the wife of a minister, Madam and we are raising a call to ban your husband’s books.  We would like to give you advance warning before we take this step.  
He handed her case studies of a girl who tried to jump off a bridge – and had no recollection of it.  Another shy bookish schoolboy who nearly killed a bully.  She was trembling while she heard him out.  She was almost in tears as she blurted out

He is not well, he has not been well for about ten years.  He only gets up to write.
Tell me more Madam, said Vipin softly
She got up, shook her head, trying to control her tears, picked up the file and rushed out. A couple of men in khakhi stopped her mid flight, and Vipin joined her, saying gently

Madam, I must insist that we meet your husband., and he ushered her into a waiting jeep.
 
Meenal was in the jeep and she looked very angry at this daylight kidnapping.  Tara broke down into tears

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