21 December, 2010

Silent Night in The Mountains

Patches of frosty white
On the typical wooden log
I sat there and took in the view
Absorbing the snowy sight

Snowflakes like Christmas decorations, I saw
I stuck my tongue out and
It felt numb but I didn’t care
Because I tasted the tastiest snowflake there was

I was practically in cloud nine
I lied down on the snowy bed
And stuck my hands and legs out
And tried to make the prettiest snow angel

It never came perfect, though
Because there was always the handprint
But this time, I was very lucky
Because a very good friend helped me
Monsoon Magic

    Umbrellas bobbing up everywhere
Clamminess in the air
The streets flowing with water like the Zaire
Monsoon rain here, there, everywhere!

The village cold as the Arctic
People, standing, drenched in water
All and sundry noticing monsoon’s magic
As everything became a complete smear!

Little rain drops of burnished dew
Falling everywhere but on few
Tree leaves covered in glossiness
The atmosphere enclosed in mugginess!

People witnessing monsoon’s magic
Scurrying away in a frenzied frolic
Not wanting to have joy
For the rain started to annoy!

16 December, 2010


 The Box


I grew up with a box
It consisted of failures, successes,
Criticism and indications
I ignored it and moved on

I became a teenager, with the box beside me
I couldn’t care less of it
I threw it about recklessly
And burned it in cruel fire

I became a citizen of the nation
The box was still there
I didn’t know it yet
But it was the world’s best creation

I died of heart disease
The box died with me
I went to heaven
And the box went to hell

I was flying to serenity
The box falling downward
I looked down at it once more
And only ashes were left

A tear came from my eyes
It went down and down
It fell on the ashes
The box was alive again

That night I dreamt
Of my wonderful little box
It waved at me and said
‘We’re always treated like spit’

I felt my cheeks burn up
I got up suddenly, feeling guilty
I ran over to my window
Only to find my box no more

I flew down to hell as fast as I could
I asked the cruel fire where my box was
He laughed at me evilly
And pointed at a secluded nook

I raced over to it
Sobbing and crying on my way
The cruel fire said it can be saved with ‘The Imperial Kiss’
I kissed it and it transformed into a cute tiny box

I didn’t know it then
But I was the ‘Empress of Heaven’
At sixty, I opened the box
And took out my favoured fountain pen

I took a piece of parchment
I started writing a letter
‘Dear box, please forgive me.
I was mistaken in my judgment.’

Tears came tumbling down my eyes
I looked over at my box
And realized for the first time
That it was a caring, supporting shadow



The Mystery Continues. . .


It was a bright sunny morning. I was at Ben’s house, sipping hot chocolate, when the phone rang. Ben answered it. It was our old friend, Inspector Tot.
‘Hullo.’ Ben said into the receiver.
‘Yes, this is me, Ben, Tot. I’ve something interesting to tell you. It is something which cannot be said on the phone. I’ll come there in twenty minutes. Have your friend Jack there with you. It’s a very significant case.’ Tot said seriously.
‘Okay. I and my friend will be waiting.’ Ben said coolly, as if Tot’s tone didn’t irritate him the slightest bit.
He put down the receiver and faced me. I was waiting for him to say something but nothing came out of his mouth. So, I started.
‘What’s going on? Is everything alright?’ I asked, with curiosity.
‘Nothing is alright in this godforsaken world, Jack. You’ve got to understand that. Anyway, Inspector Tot is coming by and he says it’s very important.’ Ben said gravely.
‘Did he give a hint as to what it was?’ I asked worriedly, but he didn’t say anything. I realized that was the last thing Ben was going to say. So, I, too, kept silent.

Twenty minutes later, Inspector Tot arrived at Ben’s house. I opened the door and he entered.
‘Good morning, Ben. Good morning, Jack. As I said on the phone to Ben, I think you can understand the seriousness of the case.’ Tot said grimly.
‘First tell us what it is and then we’ll see if it is serious or not.’ Ben said serenely.                                         
‘Well, there has been a robbery. Rubies worth more than thousand pounds are missing. And to top it off, there has been a murder. These two cases are linked.’ Tot explained.
‘Really? How is it so?’ Ben asked.
‘Well, the rubies were stolen from a girl named Molly Andrews, daughter of Patrick Andrews, the manager of Danforth Bank.  It seems Molly was on her way to France on the 6 o’ clock train. She had her rubies with her, which her father had gifted her on her twentieth birthday. We asked the train conductor,  what had happened and he said that when he opened Molly’s cabin door, he saw her hanging on a rope which was tied to the overhead fan. He fainted, right then and there. When he came to, he quickly took his cell phone and called us.’ Tot said.
‘How do you know that it was murder and not suicide?’ I asked him.
‘Well, forensics examined the body. They said that they had found cyanide in her blood. Probably, the killer must have injected it into her blood and hanged her so that it would look like she had tried to kill herself.’ Tot said firmly.
‘Okay. What do you want us to do?’ Ben asked.
‘We want you to investigate the case. Simple.’ Tot declared.
‘Well, can you give the home address of the train conductor and Mr. Andrews?’ Ben asked.
‘Here it is.’ Tot said and took out a piece of paper with two different addresses.
‘Are you coming with us, Tot?’ Ben asked.
‘I can’t. I have to get back to headquarters. Carry on without me.’ Tot said.
‘Then, let’s go, Jack. Hurry.’ Ben said to me.

Thirty minutes later, we were standing in front of the Grand Hartley Hotel.
‘Come on then. Why are we waiting around?’ Ben said, climbing up the steps to the entrance.
We took the elevator to the penthouse suite. We got out and rang the doorbell. After a few moments, the door was opened by a stressed-looking maid, with a duster in her left hand.
‘Good morning. I am Ben Conroy and this is my friend, Jack Gilbert. We’re investigating the case of Ms. Andrews. We’re here to ask a few questions to Mr. Andrews. May we speak with him?’ Ben asked the maid.
‘Oh, yes, of course. Come in, come in. Mr. Andrews is in a broken condition. He can’t sleep. He can’t eat. He is always cooped up in his study, thinking that Molly would come in any minute. I try to tell him that Molly has left and that there is nothing else to do. I try to sympathize with him. But he never listens. He is still sitting there in his study. I’ll get him for you.’ the maid said, rushing into another room.
She came back a few minutes later.
‘He’s not budging. He says he won’t get up until Molly has come home.’
‘No matter. If he won’t come to us, we will go to him.’ Ben suggested.
‘Alright. But he is in a very delicate situation. If you mention Molly too many times, he might get emotional.’ the maid said, skeptical in allowing us into the study.
‘Let’s go, Jack.’ Ben said to me.
We opened the double doors to find an old-looking man sitting on an easy chair, facing the window. When we opened the door, he turned and murmured something which sounded like ‘Molly’.  
‘Greetings, Mr. Andrews. I’m Ben Conroy and this is Jack Gilbert. We are investigating the case of your daughter. May we ask a few questions?’ Ben asked delicately, not mentioning Molly.
‘Molly was eight when I married her mother. She was the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. When she was eleven, her mother died and we were left alone. I had told her that I would take care of her and now, she is….she is…..’ his voice trailed off and he started sobbing softly.
‘Mr. Andrews, it’s not your fault. Don’t worry. We’ll find the culprit. Now, why was your daughter traveling to Germany?’ Ben asked, careful not to use her name.
‘She was visiting her aunt who had flown in from France.’ he said sadly.
‘May we ask her aunt’s name?’ I asked.
‘Madeline Spence.’ he replied quietly.
‘By the way, you look too old to have had a daughter of twenty. How old were you when you married her mother?’ Ben said gently.
’Forty three. I was forty three when I married her.’ he said silently.
‘And her mother was how old?’ was Ben’s next question.
‘Twenty one.’ he said, just above a whisper.
‘And, now, how old are you?’ Ben asked.
‘Sixty-three.’ he replied
‘Thank you, Mr. Andrews. That is all.’ Ben said, exiting the room. I followed.

‘Well, now what?’ I asked.
‘Now we go to Mr. Joey Fratton’s house.’ Ben responded to my inquiry.
‘And who is that?’ I asked him curiously.
‘The train conductor.’ Ben said simply.
We hailed a taxi and departed for Mr. Fratton’s house.

Twenty five minutes later, we rang the doorbell of the house which belonged to Mr. Fratton’s. The door was immediately opened and a good-looking, handsome young man was standing before us.
‘Good morning. My name is Jack Gilbert and this is my friend, Ben Conroy. We are looking into the Ms. Andrews case. Inspector Tot said that you were the one who first saw her after she was killed. May we ask a few questions?’ I said matter-of-factly.
‘Yes, come on in.’ Joey said with an American accent. Apparently, he was from the USA.
‘Oh, are you from the States?’ Ben asked goofily.
‘Yeah. You ever been there?’ Joey asked smoothly, with a mischievous grin.
‘No. I’ve heard it’s a good place ‘to party’, though.’ Ben said.
‘Umm, I guess.’ Joey said doubtfully.
‘Anyway, you say that you saw Ms. Andrews hanging on by a rope? Is that correct?’ Ben said suddenly.
‘Yeah. It was just weird, man. Her eyes were lifeless and her posture was totally unnatural.’ Joey said uneasily.
‘Were there any other witnesses?’ was Ben’s next question.
‘No. Only me. Why?’ he said.
‘Just curious, that’s all.’ Ben said, reaching for the newspaper which lay on the coffee table.
‘Damn it! I cut my finger!’ he exclaimed.
‘Is there blood anywhere?’ Joey asked fearfully.
‘Yes. A bit.’ Ben replied.
‘Oh. Umm, well. . . ‘was all Joey said.
‘Don’t worry. I was playing with you. I’m not bleeding. I don’t even have a cut. I just wanted to see if you have haemophobia.  Clearly, you are and so, I’m sorry about that. Well, we’re off now. Come on, Jack. Let’s go.’ Ben said. I followed him and we were out of his house.
‘How did you know that?’ I asked him.
‘I could find a book called ‘How to get rid of Haemophobia’ by Mark Tolio on the coffee table. Use your eyes, Jack, for heavens’ sake!’ Ben said, frustrated. ‘Besides, how can he kill her? He’s terrified of blood. He couldn’t even get around a small cut on my finger.’
‘This case is getting really tough.’
‘I know. Well, what do you say of a little stakeout? I’m still a bit unconvinced that he is scared of blood.’
‘Okay. why do you think that?’ I asked him with keen interest.
‘He didn’t seem genuinely scared of the cut on my finger. I think he had that book on the coffee table to convince people like us that he most definitely didn’t do it since the title of the book is ‘How to get rid of Haemophobia.’ That was really clever of him. But that won’t work on Ben Conroy.’ he said, increasing the volume of his voice when he said that last part.

So that night, we decided to do a stakeout. Joey Fratton was still a suspect on our list. So, at 9:00 PM, we took a taxi to Joey Fratton’s house and hid in the bushes so that we won’t be found. we waited for a very long time and then, decided to give up, until an SUV sped up and a man got out. At that exact moment, the door to Joey’s house also opened. They spoke loud enough for us to hear.
‘Well, did you do it?’ Joey asked the man.
‘Yes and let me tell you, it was tough. You have no idea if the cabin door is going to open or not. But, it went on successfully. Now, no one won’t be there to whine for more rubies or more jewels or this or that. God! I’m so glad that I did it tonight. That girl was such a pain. Such a pathetic fool .’
‘Great. Now, come in and I’ll get you a glass of champagne. How can you celebrate something like this than a bottle of champagne?’
So, both of them went inside the house to celebrate with champagne while we were sitting there, stunned for a bit. Then, I took my cell phone and called the police station. It was a good thing that had recorded their conversation. After the phone call, we took a taxi and went back to Ben’s house.


The next day, we were at the police station. We were waiting for Inspector Tot to finish questioning Fratton and Andrews. After a couple of minutes, he came back with a wide grin on his face.
‘How can we thank you?’ he said happily.
‘No need for thanks. I just hope that that recording is enough to put them in jail for a very long time.’ Ben said.
‘It’s more than enough, Ben. Why don’t you come and work with us? We could use a detective like you any day.’ Tot suggested.
‘Investigator, Tot, not detective. I prefer the word investigator more than detective.’ Ben said politely but firmly.
‘Well, anyway, thank you so much. I have to get back to work. I’ll see you some day. probably in the near future. Bye for now.’ Tot said.





‘You are welcome. Let’s go, Jack, shall we?’ Ben asked me. I nodded and followed him as we got out.
‘You know, the mystery isn’t over yet.’ Ben said mischievously.
‘What do you mean?’ I asked dubiously.
‘Well, in this world, the mystery is never over. The mystery continues….’ His voice trailed off.
I didn’t ask but I had a pretty good idea of what he meant.
I grinned at myself and let Ben ramble on about the misfortunes and bad qualities of the world.

15 December, 2010

Assassination in Gump Lane

It was a cold winter’s night. The street lamps were out and there was an eerie effect going about. It was not the type of place anyone would want to be in at 9:00 PM in the night. To make things worse, the moon was clouded over. It was totally dark.
Rebecca Daniels was coming back from work and as there were no cabs available which went up to Gump Lane, she had to walk three kilometres. As she turned the corner into Gump Lane, she gasped. The next thing she saw was hazy surroundings and everything went black. That was the last thing Rebecca witnessed.

The next day, I was sitting on the easy chair, sipping a warm espresso with extra marshmallows, and reading The Sunday Telegraph, when the phone rang. Reluctantly, I got up from my chair and picked up the receiver. It was a very good friend of mine, Benjamin Theodore Alexis Rupert Conroy, or, more simply, Ben. He called and said to meet him in twenty minutes at his house. I asked what was going on but he just said to meet him at his house. I was curious to know what was going on and so, I made haste and hurriedly left for Ben’s house.

‘Why the hell are you late, Jack?’ Ben said with a demanding voice. I looked at my watch and I had taken only twenty three minutes to get there.
‘Oh, don’t look at you damned wristwatch, young fellow. Make haste. We have to get to Gump Lane now!’ Ben said furiously, emphasizing the word ‘now’. I was puzzled. Why the heck was Ben so harried? I just had to wait and find out by myself.

‘Thank goodness you’re here. I’ve been trying to contact Scotland Yard for the last fifteen minutes. They’re putting me on hold. I can’t get through to them at all. I’m really grateful that you can help us.’ said Caleb in an angry but a sorrowful voice.
‘Tell me, Mr. Daniels, how did you find out about poor Rebecca’s death?’ Ben asked calmly, as if the sadness in Caleb’s voice did not trigger anything in him.
‘Well, today morning, I went out to the local market to get some eggs and on the way, I saw something sticking out of the dumpster. On an impulse, I walked up to the dumpster and looked inside only to find my Becky lying motionless in there. Obviously, I called for help and no one came. I slowly took her out and felt for a pulse and….and….’ his voice trailed off.
‘Weren’t you a bit curious as to why your wife didn’t come yesterday night?’ Ben asked curiously, eying Caleb sharply.
‘I was putting our, I mean my, seven-year-old daughter, Julie, to bed and she asked me where mommy was. I, too, was getting very worried that Becky hadn’t come home and so I called her work place and they told me that Rebecca had already left. I looked at the clock; it was 9:30 PM. Very rarely, when it’s very late, Becky goes to her friend’s house. Her name is Fiona. When Becky does do that, she normally calls and informs me. So, I thought, as she would‘ve been very tired, she forgot to call. I just left it at that. I just forgot about it and went to sleep.’ Caleb finished his story.
‘Do you mind telling me where her friend, Fiona, lives?’ Ben questioned him.
‘She lives in the first house in Oakley Lane. About two kilometres down south.’
I looked over to Ben. He was in deep thought. Finally, he said he would look into the case and that he should not have to worry.
‘Before I go, may I get a glass of cold water from the fridge, if you please?’ Ben asked Caleb pleasantly.
We followed him into the kitchen where he opened the fridge and bent down to get the bottled water. In that split second, Ben took a quick peak inside the fridge. There were five eggs present inside.
‘Here you go, Mr. Conroy. And thank you so much for helping out. A private detective is just about what I need.’ Caleb said, handing over the bottled water to Ben. He grasped it and sipped a tiny bit before he bid goodbye to Caleb and left.

‘Why did you ask for cold water?’ I asked Ben as we hailed a taxi. We were on our way to Fiona’s house next.
‘Jack, use your brains, young man. He had said that he had gone out to get some eggs. But when he had found the body, he obviously must’ve been in a state of shock to even move. Heck, he must’ve been paralyzed to see his wife dead. How, then, were there five perfectly fresh eggs inside the fridge when he opened it? And if there were enough eggs in the fridge, why would he even go out and by more?’ Ben said thoroughly.
‘Hey, now that I think about it, it does seem weird.’ I said thoughtfully.
‘There is high suspicion thrown on Mr. Daniels; that’s for sure.’ Ben said absent-mindedly. He was clearly in his own little world and at times like these, it is best to leave him and his thoughts alone for some time. It was something that I learned over the years, whenever I worked with him.

We paid the taxi driver and went up the steps to Fiona’s house.  We rang the door bell. After a few seconds, the door opened and there stood the most beautiful-looking lady.
‘Yes. Who are you? What can I do for you?’ asked Fiona pleasantly.
‘Good Morning to you, miss. I am Ben Conroy and this is my companion, Jack Gilbert. We are investigating the death of Rebecca Daniels. We are here to ask a few questions regarding the case. May we come in?’ Ben said smoothly.
‘What are you saying? It wasn’t murder. Caleb said so himself. He told that she died due to cancer. How can this be possible?’ Fiona said, completely taken by surprise.
‘Oh. Caleb came by?’ Ben asked her calmly.
‘No. He had called yesterday night. He said that Rebecca had died due to cancer. I was shocked. I couldn’t believe it. She was always a healthy person. When I heard that, I was taken aback. I asked him when the funeral will be. He said that he was in complete shock and couldn’t even think properly. I sympathized with him. Eventually, he stopped crying.’ Fiona explained.
‘Oh. Alright then. Jack, I think it’s time to go. Thank you, Miss Fiona, for your time. We’ll be off now.’ Ben said, starting down the stairs. He hailed a taxi and both of us sped off.
‘Well, that was just odd. Who is lying here? Fiona or Caleb? What do you think, Ben?’ I asked him curiously.
‘Well, let me think. Who would have motive here? Certainly, both of them have opportunity. But what about motive? Ah, yes. I know who they are. Come on man, you’re driving like a snail. Step on it.’ Ben said suddenly.
‘Who? Who is it?’ I asked him, eager to know who it is. But as always, he wouldn’t tell me a thing as it “ruins the whole thing”, as he always puts it.

‘Caleb, I have found out who the culprit is. But, you have to come with me to the police station because the person’s there. Hurry. We mustn’t waste any time.’ Ben said.
‘Alright.’ Caleb said, hurrying out the door, a bit too enthusiastically.

‘You are under arrest for the murder of Rebecca Daniels. Accompanying you will be Fiona Sanchez.’ Inspector Tot said.
‘What the hell? I’ll be damned. I’m not the culprit. Neither is Fiona.’ Caleb said, frightened.
‘Come on, Daniels, let’s go. We won’t be hearing from you or Sanchez for a very long time.’ Inspector Tot said, taking hold of Caleb by his arm and leading him to the cell.

‘How?’ I asked incredulously.
‘Well, it came to me when I saw the eggs and when Fiona lied about Rebecca dying of cancer.’
‘Also, when we went to Caleb’s house today, he didn’t even think of Julie. It’s as if he had completely forgotten about her. At that moment, I realized that he had no baby. And that Rebecca wasn’t his wife. It was Fiona.’
‘Precisely, Jack. Caleb was holding Rebecca for hostage. And in the office, Fiona tortured her. They let her go to the office because all the money that she earned would go into their pockets. As they were departing, they knew that Rebecca won’t keep quiet. And so, they killed her.’ Ben explained.
‘Well, another case solved forever.’ I said triumphantly.
‘You never know. It might just come back.’





13 December, 2010

Randomness...


A tear from an unopened eye...
A raindrop from a non-existent cloud...
A goose bump on your untrimmed hand...
Can be described as randomness...

A boy and a girl walking down the mistaken path...
A husband and a wife clambering the divorce ladder...
The tiger, the king of the jungle...
Is defined as randomness...

Many flowers missing its tender petals...
Tadpoles losing its way in the ocean...
Water lilies are no more
One word; randomness...

Discipline seriously underestimated by students...
Hygiene not good for the posh anymore...
Jealousy, a trend displayed by the citizens...
All is definable as randomness...

Good habits and great manners...
 Less jealous, more zealous...
A significant factor for life; passion...
Providentially, this is not randomness...

11 December, 2010

Funny Day

My dad's dad's younger brother had come to stay with us for about two weeks. Let me tell you that he is the funniest man I've ever encountered in my life. He's one of those cute, round belly types, with a round-shaped head and the ability to walk very slowly. 
Let me recall one incident which still comes to me today...
On a Sunday, I and my dad's uncle(I want him to be anonymous, so for the time being, we'll call him Chubby), Chubby, wanted my help in putting the clothes in the washing machine. I said alright and went to the bathroom to get the filthy clothes. Chubby was standing near the washing machine when I came back.
'Did you bring all the clothes?' Chubby asked me.
'Yes.' I replied.
'Okay then. Where's the washing powder?' Chubby asked yet another question.
I pointed at something that "looked" like detergent powder. I took it and without even giving it a glimpse, I gave it to Chubby. After a moment's pause, there was a sudden outburst from Chubby.
'This is bleaching powder, not detergent powder. Wonder what would have happened if i had put that in the washing machine. We would be scratching all over for a few days.' 
A moment's silence prevailed again. Then, laughter...from the both of us....simultaneously..!! It was hysterical!! After five minutes of continuous laughter, I ran back to the loo and this time, took washing powder instead of bleaching powder. 
That was an unforgettable moment in its own sweet way...

Even to this day, I remember it like it was yesterday...and I think Chubby also remembers it every day he thinks of me...!!