The end of a search

This is a short story I had written in school (12th standard) for a short story competition. I obviously didn’t remember everything I had written then. This is a recreation of that story – the basic plot and characters remain the same though I have tweaked it a little here and there.

Short Story No.4

I walked into my flat despondent. It was yet another day at office, another day of endless files, unsatisfied clients and pestering bosses. I was thankful that it was over. But I had to start all over again tomorrow. It was as if there was no escape from this mediocre and mundane life.

As I walked into my flat, I picked up the post lying next to the door. All letters were addressed to Anoop Chandy, but none were from people I knew. All were from business acquaintances. I wondered when I would ever receive a personal mail from someone. Even an email would do. But there was nothing but business correspondence in my email inbox as well.

I threw my car keys onto the table and went into the bathroom. As I threw the cold water running from the tap on my face, I realized just how lonely I was. I looked at my reflection in the mirror. The hairline had started to recede prematurely. Too many hours in the office, and too stressful a life had left me looking older than my 28 years. My eyes were still the same though, but perhaps, they had lost their twinkle. A stubble was growing on my face. I had lost interest in taking care of my appearance a long time ago.

I had a car, a neatly furnished flat and a hefty pay packet to take home at the end of the month. Successful, people say. I had everything, but I felt as if I had nothing. I was still searching – for success, for a meaning to my life. A search that will perhaps never end.

A few years back, when I left college, I was doing what I thought would make me successful. I wanted to build my career, climb the corporate ladder. Nothing else seemed to be important then. I didn’t want to even understand or experience anything else. I had shut everything else from my mind. I now realized that I had been wasting all these years chasing a mirage.

I flicked on the television and flipped through the channels. The evening news was on. Even the news was humdrum. I looked at my living room. The paintings on the wall had begun to fade. The windows were beginning to get dusty.

The news anchor was rambling on about the latest political fall outs of the Indo-US nuclear deal. I reflected on how different I could have made my life, only if I had made different choices. That was when I heard the voice. I knew it was familiar. I turned around to look at the TV screen and my heart skipped a beat.

I could never forget that face – bright, beady eyes, small pointed nose and soft full lips. Her long dark hair framed her oval face. Her captivating smile made her face all the more beautiful. Her intense eyes were hidden behind spectacles. I remembered that she didn’t wear glasses in college. But she hadn’t changed much at all from those days. She was now reporting news for a national news channel.

I kept watching her. She was evidently a little nervous. Maybe this was her first live report. She kept pushing her glasses up her nose as she delivered a report on the new proposals for education reforms.

Seeing her on TV brought back memories from college. My life was not so mundane and meaningless then. I leant back in my chair and closed my eyes. I could see my college again. I could see my old classrooms, the ground, the canteen…. And her. She was sitting in the gallery, waiting.

It was the Annual Sports Day, I remembered. I walked over to the ground. I could see my younger self doing warm ups. Anoop Chandy was pretty fit in those days, I thought. She was in the stands, to cheer Anoop when the race would begin.

I looked around and could only manage to see blurred images of everyone else. I wondered why. When Anoop finished first in the race, she punched the air, apparently very excited. He waved to her. I knew exactly what he was thinking. He was attributing her excitement to the fact that she belonged to the same house team as he did. Looking at her eyes brimming with elation, I knew better now.

I opened my eyes and sat up in my chair again. The news report was just coming to an end. “Rashmi Nambiar, reporting from Chennai.” She wound up the report. She was in my city right now! I could hardly believe it. I made up my mind to meet her the next day.

Maybe life wasn’t so mundane after all. Amidst all the strange faces that I see daily, it was wonderful to have a familiar one too. I wondered how surprised she might be on seeing me.

Reclining in my chair, I closed my eyes once again. I was back in college, amidst all the blurred images. On stage, the debate competition was going on. Anoop was up against her. When she eventually won, she didn’t seem very happy. Anoop hadn’t even noticed it, perhaps. But I noticed it now.

I knew he was the better speaker, but somehow he didn’t win this time. He just didn’t want to beat her. He had never understood why he did that. But I understood now.

I came back to my senses again. I had to meet her tomorrow. Especially now that I knew why all the other images in my memory were blurred.

I woke up early the next day. It was raining heavily. Many more memories from college had come back to me overnight, making me even more determined to meet her that day. I called in sick at work and set out to the news channel’s studio in Chennai.

When I arrived at the studio, I was almost drenched in the rain. I walked up to the reception desk and asked, “Can I meet Ms. Rashmi Nambiar? Is she here right now?”

It was my lucky day. She was in the studio right then. “Who should I say is waiting?”

“An old friend from college.” I hoped that when someone asked me the next time, I would be able to give a different answer.

I sat down in one of the sofas in the reception lounge. What would be her reaction when she sees me? What will she ask me? How have you been? Where have you been? Maybe she will ask me why I hadn’t called her all this while. But I knew I just had one question to ask her.

She walked into the reception area a moment later. When her eyes fell on me, she was stunned. She just kept staring for a few moments, not being able to say anything. I tried to read the emotion in her eyes – there was joy, but I felt there was some pain and anguish too. Her eyes were almost chastising me for having taken so long.

I was at a loss for words myself too. She was more beautiful than I had ever remembered her. I felt all the dreariness in my life disappearing. I was finally finding success. My mundane life was becoming meaningful.

I looked out of the window. The rain had stopped now. The clouds had cleared up and the sun was shining in through the windows.

She tucked her hair behind her ears and gave me a nervous smile. She still hadn’t said anything. She probably didn’t know what to say. But her blush was unmistakable.

I didn’t need her to say much. I just needed an answer to my question.

When I looked into her eyes again, I knew what the answer was going to be, even before I had asked the question. My search had ended.

The painting

Short Story No.3

The auction would begin in less than ten minutes and Ramakrishnan was stuck in the morning traffic. Being an art aficionado, Ramakrishnan (better known as RK) made it a point to attend most of the painting auctions and exhibitions. He didn’t always buy, but there would time and again be some painting which he thought would be a good value addition to his collection. At 52, he was a successful businessman, and had made enough money to spend lavishly on art.

But there was a special reason why he was attending this particular auction. He was after a painting by a young promising artist, Sanjay Motwani. His trusted sources had tipped him that Sanjay Motwani could be the next big thing in the world of art, and in a few years his paintings could cost a fortune. RK could buy the painting pretty cheap now, and make a lot of money out of it. For a businessman, even appreciation of art is often a money making process.

By the time RK finally managed to weave his way through the traffic and reach the hall in which the auction was being held, he was already late. The auction was well underway. He walked down the aisle and sat down in a chair a few rows from the front. The man conducting the auction was standing on a raised podium and ranting on about a painting by an artist RK didn’t recognize.

He looked around and spotted Sameer sitting in the same row. He had run into Sameer at a few auctions and art exhibitions. Sameer’s knowledge of art had always impressed him. Sameer worked for a company of a friend of his, so he knew him as more than just an art enthusiast. Being 15 years younger, Sameer at times made RK conscious of his thinning hair and bulging waistline.

Sameer spotted him and smiled. RK moved over and sat next to him.

“Hey, we run into each other again. But aren’t you supposed to be attending a conference in Jamaica?” Sameer inquired.

Sameer’s boss, who was also his friend, was also attending the conference. That must be how he knows, thought RK. “Yes. My flight takes off in two hours. By the way, has Sanjay Motwani’s painting gone on auction yet?” That was all RK wanted to know right then.

“Oh! So you are after that painting, eh? Unfortunately, you are a little late. Sanjay’s painting was the one first up for auction.”

RK couldn’t have been more disappointed. Why did they have to auction his painting first?

“Who bought it?”

Sameer pointed to a man sitting in the front row. “Mr. Akhilendra Mishra. Bought the painting for 4,50,000 rupees.”

RK looked at the man in the front row. Mr. Mishra was about the same age as him and looked distinctly uncomfortable, fidgeting around in his chair.

RK was surprised by the price that the painting had been bought for. It was pretty high for a new artist. Maybe word was getting around that Sanjay Motwani had a lot of potential.

“I really wanted to get hold of that painting.” RK lamented.

“Maybe I can help you still get that painting.”

RK looked at Sameer. “Are you serious? How?”

“I know Mr. Mishra. He is not much of an art collector. It is more of a business for him. Offer him a better deal, and he might just want to sell that painting to you. Do you want me to speak to him?”

“Yes, please.” RK’s hopes were beginning to rise.

Sameer got up from his chair, walked to the front row and sat down next to Mr. Mishra. RK watched him talk with Mr. Mishra. Sameer seemed to know the man quite well.

After about ten minutes, Sameer returned.

“Just as I thought. He is looking to make some fast money from that painting. He is ready to sell that painting to you for 5 lakhs. You will have to pay 50,000 more than the price that he had bought it for. He was asking for more, but I convinced him that you wouldn’t buy it for anything higher.”

RK was delighted. “Thanks, Sameer. That is a really good deal.”

Mr. Mishra must not have very good sources, RK thought. In a few years, the cost of the painting would increase many folds. He obviously didn’t know about it. Why would he sell the painting for just a profit of 50,000 rupees otherwise?

“There is just one problem. He wants to be paid in cash. He was recently given a bounced cheque by someone. He has been very wary of strangers since then.”

RK didn’t have any cash with him. He was planning to pay for the painting by cheque. “That is okay. I am willing to pay in cash. Will have to pick up the money from home though. I hope he doesn’t mind waiting till this evening.”

“I am sure we can work something out. Shall we close the deal then?”

“I would like to speak to him myself.”

“Sure. We will meet him outside the hall.” Sameer was already walking towards the front row again.

RK walked out of the hall and waited. Soon Sameer and Mr. Mishra walked up to him. RK shook hands with Mr. Mishra. “Glad to meet you. And happy to make the deal with you.”

“Yes, me too. All thanks to Sameer.” Mr. Mishra responded.

“For 50,000, it is a pretty good deal for both of you.” Sameer added.

“Sure.” RK was only too happy to pay 50,000 rupees more for that painting. Mr. Mishra probably didn’t realize that he would have paid even more if necessary.

“I have to leave for a conference in Jamaica this afternoon. I will send the money to you through Sameer and you can hand over the painting to him.” With that, RK closed the deal and left the hall.

He had to catch a flight in a couple of hours. He didn’t have the time to meet Mishra later in the day. But he knew he could trust Sameer. Not because he was impressed by Sameer’s morals, principles or ethics. But he knew where he worked, he knew his boss at work. In fact, he knew too much about Sameer and was too influential in the business circles for Sameer to even try pulling a fast one on him. RK knew he could hand over the 5 lakhs to Sameer and expect to have the painting at his home the next day.

*********

Sameer went to Mishra’s house in the evening with the money from RK. RK had had just about enough time to hand over the money to Sameer before rushing to the airport to catch his Jamaica bound flight.

Mishra greeted him at the door. “Thanks for getting this deal for me! There was no way anyone would have bought that painting for that much money.”

“You can always depend on me, Mr. Mishra.” Sameer smiled.

“I was bidding for the painting only to make life difficult for my business rival who was also bidding for it. I thought I would just keep pushing the price up. I didn’t expect that bastard to give up bidding. I had absolutely no intention of buying it myself.”

“I could make out as much at the auction. Which was why I came to you with the offer.”

“Why wife would have thrown me out of the house if she had gotten to know about this. I have not bought a painting my whole life. In fact, I hardly know a thing about art. Spending so much money on that damn piece of canvas would have been a huge loss. I am really glad that you managed to get such a good deal for me.”

Mishra went into his study and brought the painting out. “Okay, there is your painting.”

Sameer took the painting from Mishra and handed over the suitcase with the money in it. “Just as we had discussed – 4 lakhs. Just a loss of 50,000 for you.”

Sameer walked out of the house with 1 lakh rupees to show for his day’s efforts.

Coincidence

This is my first genuine attempt at writing a short story. I am not sure how good or bad it is, but would most definitely like to hear your honest comments on the story.

January 2, 2008
10:45 PM
The sleek black Honda City careened through the deserted Mumbai street at breakneck speed. 23-year-old Aryan sat in the passenger seat of his car and clenched his fist on the dashboard. He checked the rearview mirror on the passenger side – the blue Scorpio was still on their tail. The next instant, the image of the Scorpio disappeared as a bullet smashed the rearview mirror.

Aryan looked over at the driver’s seat – Pooja was squinting into the night, visibly shaken by the bullets raining down on them from the vehicle that was following them. He thought it was a miracle that none had hit the tyres, yet.

Earlier on January 2, 2008
6:23 PM
Aryan stood outside the shopping mall gazing at the passers-by. He pushed his wavy hair out of his face and looked at his watch again. Damn! He had been waiting for over fifteen minutes now for his friend Rohan to appear, and there was still no sign of him.

Just then he saw her at the entrance to the mall. He had noticed her at the mall a few times before – 5’4″ tall, petite, with shoulder length straight hair, brown eyes and dimples when she smiled. Just about the same age as him. Quite a few heads turned in her direction as she made her way through the crowded entrance into the mall.

At 5’9″, Aryan was the conventional tall, dark and handsome guy. He wished Rohan would hurry up, so that he would have a chance to catch up with her, before he lost her in the crowd at the mall.

Just then the Nokia N73 in his pocket started blaring out Dard-e-Disco. He made a mental note to change his ringtone at the first opportunity, and answered Rohan’s call.

“Where the hell are you?”

“Sorry, yaar. My car has broken down, won’t be able to make it.” Rohan’s distraught voice came over the line.

“But yours is brand new!”

“I know, wait till I get my hands on the damn sales manager!”

6:45 PM
Aryan was wandering aimlessly through the mall. What a waste of a day! He went into McDonald’s and ordered a burger. There were hardly any free tables available; he sat down at one of the few still vacant. As he started munching into his burger, he saw her again. She was holding a coke and a sandwich and was headed straight to his table.

“Do you mind if I sit down? There are hardly any tables available”, she asked.

“Sure!” Aryan almost choked on his burger. Maybe this day wouldn’t be a waste after all.

7:02 PM
Aryan had managed to get a nice conversation going with her. Her name was Pooja and she was a final year medical student. She had been waiting for friends too, who could not make it for some reason. What a coincidence!

He had told her that his father had a huge business of his own, and wanted his son to join him, now that Aryan had completed his MBA.

As they got up to leave, Aryan decided to take his chance, “Since you have nothing to do, how about a movie?”

“OK.”

This day was definitely not a waste, thought Aryan.

7:10 PM
As they walked out of the mall, Aryan got the impression that Pooja was constantly looking behind her; almost as if expecting someone to be following them. He thought of asking her about it, but then decided against it.

He drove them to the nearest multiplex in his black Honda City. Having a rich father had its advantages. He managed to get tickets for only Jab We Met. The new releases were all sold out.

Once inside the theatre, Pooja kept looking around at the crowd. Aryan decided to ask her about it during the intermission.

8:55 PM
“What are you looking around for?” Aryan finally asked her after they had sat through half of the film.

She looked surprised initially. “No, nothing.”

Aryan persisted.

“Just a precaution”, she finally relented.

“Precaution?”

“Yes, my parents are worried that someone might try and kidnap me. My parents are pretty rich, you see. Last week, someone rang up our house, and threatened to kidnap me. They have been pretty freaked out since then.”

Aryan couldn’t say anything for a moment. “And you really think someone is trying to kidnap you?”

“No. That phone call must have been some practical joke or something. But I might as well check to be sure that I am not being followed. “

“Well, if the kidnapping is going to be for money, I am a good candidate too”, joked Aryan.

Pooja smiled. “Well, I hope they don’t kidnap both of us together!”

They were laughing when the second half of the film began.

10:05 PM
“Do you mind if I drive?” Aryan was a little surprised to hear Pooja ask him this. The film was over, and they were back at the parking lot. “Sure”, he replied.

“I have always loved to drive, never had too many chances before.”

“Hope you have a license!” Aryan was only half serious.

Since Aryan had offered to drop Pooja home, she drove to the outskirts of Mumbai, which was where her house was.

10:16 PM
Today was a day of coincidences, thought Aryan. First, Rohan’s brand new car breaks down. Pooja’s friends don’t make it to the mall on the same day. And he and Pooja end up eating in the same restaurant. He couldn’t help thinking that he must be pretty charming to have a girl go out on a date with him on their very first meeting.

10:27 PM
They were now on the outskirts of Mumbai. The street was almost deserted. Aryan noticed Pooja glancing in the rearview mirror repeatedly. “Still checking for kidnappers?” Aryan teased.

“Actually, I think we are being followed. That blue Scorpio has been on our tail for quite some time.”

Aryan looked back immediately. Sure enough, there was a blue Scorpio behind them.

A few unnecessary, but intentional turns later, the vehicle was still following them, and their worst fears were confirmed. He asked Pooja to accelerate and get the hell out of there.

10:40 PM
When the first bullet hit the car, Aryan wished he had been driving. After all, he was more familiar with the car, and he was a man, of course.

But he was soon thankful that Pooja was at the wheel. She maneuvered the vehicle with skill and confidence, maintaining her calm under pressure. He knew he couldn’t have done half as well. And it was a coincidence that she was driving and not him. Another one for the day!

“So, that was no practical joke, after all! Looks like someone is really trying to kidnap me”, Pooja hissed through clenched teeth, desperately trying to keep the car on the road.

“Who do you think it is?” Aryan asked. Not that it mattered much now.

“God knows!”

10:55 PM
Finally, the inevitable happened. One of the bullets hit the left back tyre, and the car skidded out of control, and crashed into a nearby tree. Aryan was only surprised that the gunman had taken that long to hit the tyres.

His first thought was to get out of the firing range, and duck under some cover. He scanned the region and saw a row of old rundown warehouses on the left side of the road. He started running towards the warehouse straight ahead, but Pooja grabbed his hand and said, “This way”, dragging him to the one on the right. Aryan wondered how she expected the warehouse on the right to be any better than the one straight ahead.

11:03 PM
They waited with bated breath for the sound of footsteps. They had managed to enter the warehouse through the creaking old door. In the darkness of the warehouse, they were crouching in a corner, hoping that their pursuers will not succeed in finding them in the large warehouse.

The Scorpio had stopped a few blocks back. They hadn’t seen anyone getting out of it.

The warehouse was dead silent. And then without warning, the lights were turned on. Aryan and Pooja stood facing three men, and they didn’t look like they were there to help out.

**********

Aryan weighed his chances against the three men. They weren’t armed, so maybe he did have a chance.

“Do you think the two of us together could take those three down? They are not armed”, he whispered to Pooja staring straight ahead at the three men. A girl who could drive like the way she did could do anything. He hoped that she had some martial arts training.

“Firstly, it is not three, but four kidnappers that you have to take down. And secondly, they are armed.” Aryan turned to look at Pooja, confused.

She had a smirk on her face and stood with a revolver in her right hand pointing straight at his chest.

*********

It didn’t take Aryan very long to realize what had happened. It never was his charm that made her go out with him. In fact, her charm had led him straight into a trap. Their meeting was never a chance encounter. It was all very well planned, cleverly orchestrated.

Rohan’s brand new car hadn’t broken down on its own. It was not by chance that Pooja had walked into the same restaurant that he had chosen. She was never looking around her to spot kidnappers. She was just checking to see if her accomplice was on their tail or not.

It was not for love of driving that Pooja had asked to drive his car. She wanted to drive him straight to this warehouse.

The gunman was missing the tyres intentionally, till they got to this warehouse. The shooting was just meant to freak him out, and he realized that it had. He hadn’t even thought of calling someone on his mobile for help.

Aryan remembered how she had dragged him to this warehouse, while he was going to run to the one straight ahead. He couldn’t believe that he had let a woman hoodwink him so easily.

“I am sorry to let you know”, Pooja said, the smirk still firmly planted on her face, “that you have been kidnapped. And by the way, there is no such thing as coincidence.”