eye. The bullet had taken a part of the skin along with the eye. John thought to himself that he needed to practice his shooting. He wondered whom to kill next for practice.
A few days later, When John saw the dying pregnant cockroach, his question was answered. He believed it was a signal from above. John had a weakness for symbolism. His next target would be a pregnant woman. He loaded his silencer and went to a phone booth to call up a single pregnant woman he knew and invite himself over. She was delighted to hear of his self invitation and said she would be waiting for him. She was delighted and happy because she had one more person to whom she could tell about Drake, the guy who had ditched her for someone else. When John arrived and got done with the formalities of greeting, he asked her whether she had informed anyone about his coming. When she answered in the negative, John aimed for the eye and shot her. It was instant death. John ran to her quickly to see if he had got the bull's eye. It was a clean shot. It had hit the eyeballs and nothing else. John was proud of himself.
The killing rejuvenated John and the next morning, he went to work with renewed energy. When he entered the office, he was informed that his boss had called him to his office to brief him about something. In the boss' cabin, his boss, the chief of police said "John, I am assigning you to the serial killer case which is raising a big hue and cry. Your expertise with guns will prove to be a big help in the case."
Once the briefing got over, John felt a huge sense of responsibility on his shoulders. He was on the quest of finding himself. Buddha would have approved.
Robbie
There was something intriguing about Robbie. I never knew I wanted to write a story about him. Then one fine day I met him and I told him “Robbie, I am going to write a story about you". The words just came out. There was nothing intentional or unintentional about it. It was the most natural thing in the world. It was as natural as wanting to eat an ice cream when you see someone else eating it and before you know it, your wallet is lighter and your stomach is not.
When I got down to writing the story, I started regretting it. The story involved getting into the head of a person and begin to think like him. This is the most unnatural thing in the world. I wanted to chuck the idea of writing a story and eat ice cream instead.
But my interpretation of Robbie has to be told. Because Robbie being Robbie will never remind me to keep my word about writing a story about him. Or else I would be eating an ice cream right now. By now Robbie might even have forgotten the conversation about me writing a story about him. Some people like Willie would have told their great grand children that somebody wanted to write a story about them. But Robbie would not care. He would already be in the lookout for the next new adventure.
My interpretation can be done and got over within one simple sentence. Robbie is a Hedonist. His wily, slimy, cunning and dishonest eyes keep looking for the next new instrument of pleasure. He is addicted to addictions. And that’s why I don’t see a rosy future for him. Already I feel his mind is becoming numb. Numb to control, numb to responsibilities and most dangerously he is becoming numb to emotions like fear. That’s the danger any Hedonist faces in his life. Hedonists can be most found in two locations. Hospitals or prisons. They have a streak of self destruction in them. Hopefully, Robbie won’t self destruct. He is a great guy. One of the funniest and the wittiest around. He loves everybody and thus loves no one in particular.
MBA's are the creatures who are achievement seekers. Title, prestige, recognition, fame and money is what drives them. A need to feel superior is inbuilt in them. For Robbie, these qualities are conspicuous by their absence. He seems destined to a life of mediocrity because mediocrity is what he seeks. Mediocrity hardly needs responsibilities and that is what Robbie loves best. He loves a reckless life where the only purpose is to look for the next new adventure.
Tom's day out
Tom was a wasted genius. Everyone thought Tom was a nobody. Nobody even gave Tom much of a thought. And that was how Tom preferred it. He had his mouth organ and that was the best friend he had. The other musical instruments understood him as well, but the mouth organ was something that he had deeply bonded with.
Tom could not speak clearly, and strangely his voice had a rough jarring tone which was deeply unmusical. But his hands did the talking and more than made up for the lack of vocal expression. It did not take him more than a few hours to learn an instrument and a few weeks to master it. But his talent was known to no one. When his father discovered Tom playing the mouth organ he threatened to confiscate it or throw it away in the drain if Tom did not study instead.
Tom was feeling particularly sad as his father had kept up the promise and taken away Tom's beloved mouth organ. It was a week since he had played any music. His hands were itching to play something. He could live easily without talking but not playing music was utmost suffocation for him as that was his only mode of expression. He felt like an addict in search of his weakness. He ran to the music room in his school hoping that it was empty. He could not play if people were around. Luckily the music room was deserted. He looked around for a mouth organ but settled for piano when he could not find it.
As soon as his fingers touched the keys he was a changed person. It was his craziest performance ever. He had never felt this alive before. The music somehow magically conveyed all the frustration that his stammering lips could not. The music itself carried hope to Tom that all was not lost. That he could co-exist in the society too. He was not as maladjusted as he thought he was. In the form of his music. He could offer something of value as well. In his haste to play music Tom had forgotten that it was school hours. When he finished, he noticed a bunch of people standing behind him. For the first time in his life, Tom was happy that there was an audience which had witnessed his performance. He hoped his performance had an impact on others as well, as much as it had on him. He smiled at them. The crowd replied with angry stares and hateful gazes. A school exam was going on in the class next door, and it had taken the authorities 15 minutes to knock down the door of the music class. A teacher nearby took Tom by the ears and detained him in the headmaster's room where he got the shouting of his life.
The headmaster felt highly satisfied that he had brought a culprit to book and showed him the right path. The shouting he gave to Tom also vented out the frustration that he was feeling. For not getting the due recognition that he deserved about the fact that the mayor had shook hands with him.
Tom went away quietly. His hands had stopped itching and he no longer felt the urge to play his mouth organ.
A bad hair day
Keshav was a lucky person in a way. He did not have to shave that regularly because his hair growth was less. Otherwise he was pretty unlucky. He was effeminate in nature and thus all his manhood was spent in proving it. His schoolmates used to taunt him with nicknames like "girlie" and those taunts used to echo in his head long after they had been said. He longed for a decent friendship with someone but as soon as he neared getting close to someone, the other person would remark about his feminine tendencies. After that, Keshav could not bring himself to be friends with the other person as he lacked self esteem and did not consider himself worthy.
The one person whom he truly adored was his father. His father was a simple person and treated Keshav with warmth and affection. Keshav, in return, would do anything to gain his father's approval. Keshav's main aim in life was to buy a sparkling high end Mercedes for his dad. He used to envision the pride that his father would feel and the happiness in his father's eyes. These thoughts never failed to propel him in his pursuit of wealth.
One day, two acquaintances came to meet Keshav and Keshav excitedly introduced them to his father. On meeting them, his father said " Keshav, look at the fine beard these two men have and then look at you. You are such a girl." Keshav felt his heart sinking at these words. He tried to give a smile and replied “Atleast I save money on the shaving razor."
The symphony of life
Sam was confused whether to l
ive or to kill himself. The confusion was intolerable. Living meant that he had to live with the ignominy every day. His bad policies as the head of the business had meant the bankruptcy of the business. And with it the money and hopes of millions of investors had vanished. Within weeks he had turned from a multimillionaire to a man faced with a gigantic debt. Faced with these thoughts he thought suicide was the only recourse. Anything to run away from the mounting debt. Anything to flee the harsh reality of life.
Sam had been a good person even when he was rich. He had given away half his wealth in philanthropy and had always lent a helping hand to anyone who asked. Now, once he was branded a failure, everyone shirked away from helping him climb the hole he had dug himself in.
The empire that he had diligently built over 3 decades had been frittered away in a few weeks. The medicines which his business manufactured to cure common cold turned out to have the side effects of causing cancer and weakening the immunity system. The discovery of the side effects led to a barrage of lawsuits from all over the country. And Sam saw his business crumbling in front of him. He lost all his money, went into debt to pay for the lawsuits and most