UBC Day 25 - The prank.

Neeti and Nayan, the best of friends from school, were on cloud nine. Both of them had landed a job with a TV channel and were selected to host a laughter gag series with it. They were given the job of luring gullible people to their pranks and make a fool out of them. They loved their job because that is what they were good at since their school days.

Today they had assembled at an outdoor location out of their city. The director explained the scene to them. Neeti and Nayan were to pose as newlyweds and ask the “victim” to click their photograph from the other side of the road. Just as the photo was taken, the crew SUV would pass by slowly between them. In a split second, the door would open and Neeti and Nayan would exchange places with an identically dressed but much older couple seated inside. The SUV would pass and the ‘victim-photographer’ would be in shock to see an old couple in place of the young. And to add to his shock the instant print out coming out of the camera would be that of the old couple, which would already be set in place. That would freak the victim out. The entire act would be filmed for the TV audience.

‘Oh! This was going to be so much fun’.

They had managed to fool eight passerby’s so far when Neeti spotted the next victim.

“Nayan, look our next bakra”, she shouted excitedly.

The victim was fast approaching and they called up their crew to be ready. They spoke their rehearsed lines and the victim agreed to photograph them. They posed for the photo, and Neeti could feel Nayan’s hand on her hips.

‘Strange’, she thought , ‘she and Nayan were close friends but not lovers. And he had never touched her like that, not even for a photograph.’ She made a mental note to reprimand him after the shoot. As the SUV approached they got into it and the older couple alighted from it.

Nayan looked at the victim again from the tinted glass and remarked, “ Doesn't he look like Karan?”

“Don’t ever mention his name, Nayan, not even for fun. I hate him.”

Neeti had herself thought so too, but chose not to say it aloud. She did not want to remember Karan, the college romeo who had proposed to her a million times. The guy she hated the most, and had set up a prank with Nayan to make fun of, in front of the whole college. Nayan had persuaded him for a snap with her on the last day of college. He had purposefully dropped a banana peel near Karan’s shoes. Karan had skid and fallen down and they had a hearty laugh at his expense. Someone told them that Karan had to be hospitalized after that incident.

‘Served him right’, she thought, ‘that will teach him to be more respectful of women.’

As she was lost in her thoughts she saw the older couple approach the crew.

“Hey guys, the prank didn’t work this time. Who swapped our photo with this one?” the elderly man was screaming.

The entire crew rushed to see what had gone wrong.

Neeti’s blood froze when she saw the photograph.

It was Neeti’s picture with Karan standing with his hands on her hips, exactly like he had stood that day!

UBC day 13- Prove that you are not a robot....

I tried to comment on someone's space and this is what I encountered! Undecipherable, unintelligent codes that made me scratch my head in frustration and wonder if all that they had taught us in primary school was a farce...Maybe they should include an extra class in school where they teach you how to decipher this stuff!!

Take a look at some of these codes-

I might just be a robot for all you know. You see, I cannot read the captcha!! For reasons of attracting spam, many sites require me to prove that I am a human enough not to spam. But I fail to see the reason behind it. If I could read the write up, it means I am human right? What more do I need to prove? By the way, I did not know robots also read and commented on things! 

I think it should be named, prove that you are a robot, because only a robot would be able to read all those squiggly-squaggly words and numbers! 

I keep hitting the keys hoping I've got the right word, and after a few tries I've lost all inclination to comment. Enabling comment moderation is a wise thing to do, because it anyway lets you see the comments before you publish them, but getting your readers to go through this unthinkable stuff is torturous. 

Again, I may be wrong.... I am a robot, you see!! 

Tongue (un)tied?

“Watch out, you moron!” screamed Ankit through his car window, looking at the two bikers speeding by on the highway.

‘Hmm…A Harley Davidson! Cool bike but lousy rider’ he thought. They had come real close to his car and he hoped they had not dented his ‘baby’. He braked to a halt for a closer inspection of his shining black sedan.

“Marega Sala” he cursed as he touched the spot that had been scrapped off showing an ugly mark in its place.

He got back into his car still cussing under his breath, fretting about the dent. He had driven a couple of miles, when he saw a huge crowd blocking almost the entire road. He peeped out calling for someone from the crowd.

‘Hello bhaiyaji…..Is there a problem? Why the traffic jam?”

“Accident sir, two bikers just crashed into a slow moving truck carrying heavy iron rods. Both were dead on the spot.”

Beads of perspiration started to form on Ankit’s forehead as he got down from his car and walked to the place of the accident. He couldn’t look on beyond a minute. The mangled remains of the Harley Davidson and the bloodbath around it revealed a gory story. Two lifeless bodies lay nearby awaiting the police and ambulance to transport them.

He reached home looking quite disturbed. Neha, who was tending to her garden, saw him and ran to the driveway.

“You look like you just saw a ghost. Why so pale and dull, love? Anything happened?”

He recounted the happenings of the day narrating how guilty he felt for having cursed them. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. They were not driving carefully. Maybe they would have met with the accident even if you had not cursed them. Stop feeling so guilty.”

“or maybe not…” he said eyes closed in thought.

Neha cuddled his head, giving him a hug, as he stood begrudging himself. 

“It’s ok baby…it’s not your fault.”

“It’s not a one off incident Neha, this has started becoming eerily repetitive!” he threw his jacket on sofa and slumped into it, staring blankly at the wall.

“You are only imagining things, Ankit. You cannot just say something for it to happen.”

“Oh really? Well, you remember the article I wrote about Vikram and his struggle with cancer? About how brave he was being, how he was an inspiration to everyone...blah …blah..? And what happened? He passed away couple of days after that article got published. How do you explain that? Maybe I have a cursed tongue or something.”

“He was struggling. He was dying anyway. We both know that. That article was a co-incidence.”

“Would you call Neelima didi’s bus accident a co-incidence? The bus had its entire right side ripped off. All eighteen people on the right side suffered grievous injuries. You know why? All because of this,” he said pointing to his tongue, “this damned cursed thing.”

“Ankit, my love, you did not cause that accident. You merely told didi to sit on the left side of the bus.”

“I told her, 'didi sit on the left hand side; even if there’s an accident, the impact is lesser there'. Am I a freak? Why did I have to say such things?”

“But that saved her life, didn’t it?”

“That is not the point. I kind of find that freaky. I cannot explain why I said what I did.”

“Well, well…let’s prove that all this is a co-incidence, ok? So say something just like that, umm…say that something will happen to me”, she tried to make him see reason.

“Are you trying to make fun of me? It doesn’t work like that girl. I don’t think about what I say. I just say it. Ok?”

“Say this roof is going to collapse on my head”, she suggested gesturing to the ceiling and smiling.

“Neha….”

“Hmm…..how about the gas, is it going to explode as I turn it on. Say it and let me try,” she said walking to the kitchen.

“Neha, don’t…..”

Without waiting for him to finish, she continued, “am I going to get electrocuted? or  perhaps fall down and break my leg?”

“yea, woman, go break your leg! Enough Neha, you are unbelievable.” He sighed and walked to his room.

“I am only trying to tell you that you are worrying unnecessarily”, he heard her voice trail off as he shut the door of his room.

“Ahhh…..ouch….Ankit…” he heard Neha’s blood curdling scream and the sound of something falling down with a thud. He rushed out to see what happened.

He saw Neha sprawled on the floor. Apparently with her leg broken, having slipped over, he wondered over what!

image courtesy :google

Memories

Abhay pulled up his trousers for the umpteenth time like every day. He almost did it subconsciously like it was akin to breathing.  But he never wore a belt. Wearing a belt brought back painful memories.

Memories.

Those of his father. Of the putrid smell of alcohol mixed with smoke. Of his towering, overpowering presence in their shanty. Of being thrashed mercilessly. Of the blue and red strips on his back and hands and legs and face. Across his ears. Yeah, that incident had left him partially deaf. And partially blind. He remembered withering away slowly. The years of wetting his bed after evenings of whippings.  The feeling of sleeping on a bed of thorns. The ache penetrating every nerve ending in his body.

Memories.

Beads of perspiration began to form on his forehead as he thought about them. He felt a pool of water forming at his feet. His trouser soaking in the warm wetness. His slippers starting to smell.

Memories.

The silver cold metal against his warm hands. Before he could realize, his fingers slid effortlessly into the groove underneath. They landed a string of six messengers of death into his father’s head. The smell of burnt flesh pervaded his senses as he bent down to feel his father’s pulse. There was no sign of life. He removed the ragged belt snaking around the rotund belly of his tormentor and fastened it around his neck like a noose. 

Just to be sure. 

Just symbolically.

He smiled. And pulled up the trouser weighed down by the wetness. The smell didn’t bother him any more.

The brown belt. It was no more.

They were now just memories.

The kill...

They had tormented her for long! They had kept her under their complete control. She could not even step out of her room when they were around.

‘How dare they make my life so miserable! I must do something about it’, she thought.

This fear and hatred led to the conception of a deadly plan.

‘If I have to put an end to this torture I must soil my hands with their blood. That will be my only salvation’, she said and strengthened her resolve to kill them.

It was a Friday and the children would have holidays for the weekend. She would execute her plan then. She packed off her children to school and went to the nearby chemist and brought her weapon. A deadly combination of Imiprothrin and Cypermethrin. A drug so potent, that just a few drops would suffice to send them into deep sleep.

Forever.

The thought brought a smirk to her face. She also brought a pair of surgical gloves and surgical mask.

‘So long, farewell…’

“Behenji, be careful if you have children around the house. This is very toxic”, the chemist warned her.

“Yes bhaisaab, I will be careful.”

She hid the drug on the attic in her room. Then she called up her mother.

“Mom, shall I send over Guddu and Bunty to your place for the weekend? They wanted to play with Chotu and Raju. I’ll pick them up on Sunday,” she said to her mother.

“Of course, my dear, you need not ask my permission.”

After the kids came from school she dropped them off to her mother’s place. She did not want any witnesses for the gory incident. Her husband was away on tour and would be back only on Sunday morning. Perfect!

Now everything was in place and she could not wait for night to fall!

She wondered whether she should mix the drug with the food or just smother them with it. She decided on the latter. Food would be a dead giveaway. It was almost half past 10 and she had finished her dinner and cleaning. Everything was dark. Maybe they had gone off to sleep.

‘Don’t worry, you’ll never wake up’, she thought as an evil smile lit up her face.

Then she stealthily brought down the weapon so as not to alert them to the impending danger. She put on her gloves and mask and smiled. Then she quietly opened the door of her bedroom, but did not switch on the light. Quickly, she used her weapon on the unsuspecting preys and in so much quantity that they did not stand a chance of survival, leave alone try to escape. She saw them writhing in pain as they succumbed to their death. Then she walked to her in-laws bedroom. Her gait was more confident this time. She repeated her act till she ensured the unwanted guests had breathed their last.

Alas, they were gone now, forever! There were little beads of perspiration on her forehead, a smile on her lips, for a job well executed, and her heart was now free of fear! She didn’t bother to do anything else. She just removed her gloves and washed her hands. Then she went to sleep on the carpet in the hall.

Next morning she got up to see the victims lying dead and motionless. They deserved to die. Then she brought out the broom and dustpan from the closet and began gathering all the dead cockroaches in it. Finally she had gotten rid of them!

The Prank

Neeti and Nayan, the best of friends from school, were on cloud nine. Both of them had landed a job with a TV channel and were selected to host a laughter gag series with it. They were given the job of luring gullible people to their pranks and make a fool out of them. They loved their job because that is what they were good at since their school days.

Today they had assembled at an outdoor location out of their city. The director explained the scene to them. Neeti and Nayan were to pose as newlyweds and ask the “victim” to click their photograph from the other side of the road. Just as the photo was taken, the crew SUV would pass by slowly between them. In a split second, the door would open and Neeti and Nayan would exchange places with an identically dressed but much older couple seated inside. The SUV would pass and the ‘victim-photographer’ would be in shock to see an old couple in place of the young. And to add to his shock the instant print out coming out of the camera would be that of the old couple, which would already be set in place. That would freak the victim out. The entire act would be filmed for the TV audience.

‘Oh! This was going to be so much fun’.

They had managed to fool eight passerby’s so far when Neeti spotted the next victim.

“Nayan, look our next bakra”, she shouted excitedly.

The victim was fast approaching and they called up their crew to be ready. They spoke their rehearsed lines and the victim agreed to photograph them. They posed for the photo, and Neeti could feel Nayan’s hand on her hips.

‘Strange’, she thought , ‘she and Nayan were close friends but not lovers. And he had never touched her like that, not even for a photograph.’ She made a mental note to reprimand him after the shoot. As the SUV approached they got into it and the older couple alighted from it.

Nayan looked at the victim again from the tinted glass and remarked, “ Doesn't he look like Karan?”

“Don’t ever mention his name, Nayan, not even for fun. I hate him.”

Neeti had herself thought so too, but chose not to say it aloud. She did not want to remember Karan, the college romeo who had proposed to her a million times. The guy she hated the most, and had set up a prank with Nayan to make fun of, in front of the whole college. Nayan had persuaded him for a snap with her on the last day of college. He had purposefully dropped a banana peel near Karan’s shoes. Karan had skid and fallen down and they had a hearty laugh at his expense. Someone told them that Karan had to be hospitalized after that incident.

‘Served him right’, she thought, ‘that will teach him to be more respectful of women.’

As she was lost in her thoughts she saw the older couple approach the crew.

“Hey guys, the prank didn’t work this time. Who swapped our photo with this one?” the elderly man was screaming.

The entire crew rushed to see what had gone wrong.

Neeti’s blood froze when she saw the photograph.

It was Neeti’s picture with Karan standing with his hands on her hips, exactly like he had stood that day!

Déjà vu...

“Akash, wait a minute…” shouted Suman, as she saw him opening his car door though the window.

Akash looked up and saw Suman with a befuddled look on her face.

“What happened, are you ok?”

She ran down to the car and held Akash in a tight embrace.

“Don’t go anywhere today, stay at home with me, please”, she pleaded.

“Don’t be silly, Suman, you know I have an important client meet today.”

“No, please don’t go… something’s not quite right.”

“Ok, calm down, if you have had a bad dream, then go back to sleep and give it a good ending, huh? Take care, bye”, he smiled.

“Akash, you don’t understand, it’s not a dream. All this…all this…, has happened before, exactly like this, This is exactly how you got up from the breakfast table and walked to your car, this is the very shirt you were wearing, and I called out to you exactly like I did now and you refused to listen to me and went to work….”, she said sobbing, “and then….", she closed her eyes,".......no, please don’t go. Just stay at home with me.”

“Suman, you know what this is, don’t you? Its called Déjà vu, you know it, right? It happens to me all the time. Like something has already happened before.  Don’t worry my dear, if there’s a problem I’ll head straight home. Now send me off with a smile.”

No amount of arguing could convince Akash to skip his client meet and stay at home. When Akash left, in spite of her pleadings, she broke down, sobbing uncontrollably.

She knew what had happened next, last time. Akash had been in a series of mini accidents the entire day. First he had injured himself, slipping on the smooth office floor, then, burnt his hand accidentally on the photocopier, then; someone had spilled their hot tea on him. He had to come home for a change of clothes before he attended his client meet. He was late and as he hurried to his car, it had broken down and he had hailed a cab, desperate to be on time. The cab had hit a speeding truck and Akash was badly injured or was he dead?  She didn’t quite remember.

She saw the time on her watch. It was almost half an hour since he had left, ‘he must have reached office by now’, she thought.  She picked up her mobile and dialed his number.

“Hello, Akash, have you reached office?”

“Hey Suman, I reached, Actually….” There was a thud and the line at the other end went dead.

She tried calling him repeatedly but his phone was switched off.  She was sure something untoward had happened and was hurriedly getting dressed to go to his office, when the phone rang. It was Akash.

“Suman, it’s me. I am calling from Sam’s mobile. I tripped on my open shoelaces while talking to you and my phone fell down and broke open. I guess I’ll have to get it repaired. If there’s anything urgent, you can call at my desk number, ok?”

She was more panic stricken than ever. He had injured himself! She sat brooding over it for what seemed like eternity.

 It was happening exactly as it had, last time. Was there really a last time? Was it just déjà vu or was it a premonition?

Whatever it was, it didn’t feel good. She decided to get ready and go to Akash’s office. She would convince him to come home with her. She absent-mindedly opened her wardrobe and picked out her blue skirt and cream top. She almost screamed when she realized what she had picked.

She had picked the same dress when she had decided to go to Akash’s office that day!

She threw it away as if it were some sort of a bad omen and picked a pair of black trousers and light pink shirt instead.  She came out and was locking the door when she heard a loud honk. She was shocked to see Akash in the drive way honking madly.

“Thank god you are home, Akash. I am happy you listened to me.”

“Shut up Suman! Look what that clumsy clown Gupta has done. He spilled his cup of hot tea on my shirt. Open the door, I have to change and run for the meeting now.”

She looked at him in disbelief, unable to digest what she had just heard. As he changed into a clean white shirt, she stood firmly between him and the mirror and held his hands.

“Akash…” she said

“Ahhh…let go, Suman, it hurts”, he screamed.

“What..?” she asked, taken aback.

“My hand, you idiot. Let go of my hand. Ouch…”

“What happened, Akash?”

“I burnt it accidentally at the photocopier.”

“Oh no….that can’t be true. Akash, you cannot go out anywhere. That thing you called ‘déjà vu’, in the morning…it’s all true. Everything has happened exactly as I saw it.”

“Will you just shut your mouth and let me go. I am already late”, he shouted and pushed her aside before he stormed out of the house. “

She ran after him, but he had already banged the door shut. She saw him reverse his car and speed away. She was so scared that she could cry. Suddenly it struck her.

 Akash wasn’t wearing a white shirt when he changed, it was red. And he couldn’t take his car. His car had broken down and he had taken a cab.

Relieved, she sat down and laughed at herself. It was déjà vu, after all! She was glad it had ended. She thought of going out to the supermarket to buy few things, now that she was anyway dressed up. She locked the door and hailed a cab.  They had just gone a few yards, when suddenly the cabbie hit the brakes.

‘Screech…crash….’

She lay in a pool of blood on the road. Her cabbie had hit a speeding truck, and she was knocked out of the cab. In the distance, she saw Akash running towards her. He gathered her in his arms and was hailing another cab. She could faintly hear him screaming instructions at the cab driver. He was looking at her teary eyed, and saying something.

‘Thank god my car broke down. I was trying to get a cab when I saw the accident and then saw you fall out of the cab. Don’t worry you’ll be alright. ‘

Then she saw his shirt. Soaked in her blood. RED.

The Frenchman

Roshni was glued to the TV watching her favorite program on TLC. It was a travel show that was featuring the '1000 places to see before you die'. Her three year old son was sitting in his rocking chair and staring at the television. She was admiring the beauty of the Chateaux de la Loire, the magnificent castles in Chambord, when she heard,

 “C'est tellement beau”. (that’s so beautiful)

 “Oui, ses magnifiques” (yes, it’s magnificent) she responded.

 But no sooner had she said so, she gave a shriek of fright and almost jumped out of her chair when she realized it was her little son who said that.

 ‘I must be dreaming,’ she thought, ‘this little brute cannot speak English properly! How in the world could he speak French?’

 She was in the eighth class when her father had asked her take up French as her optional third language. She had managed to score full marks in every exam and even in her boards. But her little one speaking an alien language with the finesse of a local was unthinkable. She tried to brush off the incident from her mind and continued with watching the series.

 “Maman, venez-là, me donner un verre d'eau”

 Shocked, she turned to look at her son, who had just said,

 ‘Mamma, come here, give me a glass of water'

 Was she really hearing him speak French or was she imagining? She picked him up and held him close,

 “Beta, where did you pick up this language?”

 He gave her a sweet smile and a kiss,

 “Maman, je vous aime” ( Mamma, I love you)

 She put him down and called her mom,

 “ Ma, I just heard Bittu speak French! I am shocked, I don’t know what to say…”

 “Really? Have you slept well last night, my dear? Why don’t you take a little nap?”

 “Ma, trust me he did.”

 “Were you studying French when you were carrying him? ”

 “No”

 “Maybe he was a Frenchman in his previous birth, and he must have remembered something..”

 That reason seemed plausible to her. Maybe he was born in France in his previous birth! How exciting! She had only heard about re- birth and couldn’t believe she was actually witness to such an occurrence. She couldn’t wait to share her discovery with her hubby when he came back from work.

 “Anand, guess what happened today”, she asked her husband as he walked into the house, barely able to conceal her excitement.

 “Did you win a lottery?”

 “You never take me seriously jaanu,” she rued. “Our little bittu was a Frenchman in his previous birth. He speaks French fluently.”

 Then she promptly brought Bittu to his father and asked him to say hello to his dad.

 “Bittu, Dites bonjour à votre père”

 Biitu just smiled and looked shyly at his dad.

 “Ne soyez pas timide” (don’t be shy, she coaxed)

 But Bittu would not speak a word.

 “ Anand, trust me, he did speak French… I don’t know why he won’t open his mouth now.”

 “I trust you my dear, kids are like that .You cannot force them to do anything. I’ll quickly change and join you back.”

 Then he slyly winked at his son who winked back. As he went to his room, he quietly removed a French booklet from under the pillow and hid it in his bookshelf. He was trying to teach his son a few phrases in French to surprise Roshni on Women’s day. Bittu was a fast learner indeed, he thought to himself. Just then Bittu walked in,

“Hello père, Comment était le travail aujourd'hui?” (Hello dad, how was work today?)

Anand looked at him with utter disbelief. Where did he pick THAT up?!!

One morning....

It was 7am already. Nita was getting late for work. She hurried to the shower and switched on the light.

‘Phat!’

The bulb burst and broke into a thousand pieces. Suddenly there was complete darkness and Nita stood stunned. She cleaned the mess, lit a candle and turned the shower knob.

‘Plonk’

The shower nozzle fell down and landed on her feet.

‘Aww..’

She jumped in pain and fright.

‘What a way to start the morning!’, she thought.

When she finally got ready, she realized she had very little time for breakfast.

‘Let me make a quick omlette.’

She poured the beaten egg into the pan and lo! the omelette flew out of the pan like Mexican jumping beans!

‘Is this some kind of a joke?’, she asked the pan in a stern voice.

The pan just seemed to smile and say,

‘Don’t give me that look. It’s your bad day, darling!’

‘Whatever!’, she said with a resigned look.

She limped (‘grrr.. the shower nozzle be cursed!’) to the doorway with an empty growling stomach.

‘Let me pick up something to eat on the way to work.’

‘whirrrrr…whirrrr…whirr…’

‘Now what? You have decide to conspire too, Mr. Car? Why won’t you start?’

She got down and kicked the tyre with her feet forgetting it was already hurt.

‘Awww…awww..no!’

She limped to the taxi stand and tried to hail down a cab. There was none in sight. She limped further hoping to find one. She had almost walked to the main road. Vehicles were whizzing past and she tried to protect her precious hair and face from the smoke and pollution using her scarf.

‘Watch where you are going, lady!’

She turned around to see a man in a car that had swerved just in time to avoid hitting her.

‘Sorry!’

Before she could turn back and continue walking, a huge truck came out of nowhere and crashed into her.

‘Hello good morning,
Let’s go, let’s rock,
Hello,
Yeah, come on,
good morning.’

Nita got up with a start soaked in her own sweat.

‘Darn, the alarm! It’s 7am already. But thank god! It was just a dream!’

She hurried to the shower and switched on the light.

‘Phat!’

The bulb burst and broke into a thousand pieces. Suddenly there was complete darkness.