Dead Man Talking

Disclosure: This is a piece of fiction. Most of the people would never notice the 'Pulp Fiction' tag, so just being safe. :D

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I die in the end.
There, the cat is out of the bag.

Most of you can now go on with whatever you try to pass on as life, without caring and without realizing how your own insignificant existence is nothing but a farce in the grand schemes of things.
The rest of the souls who decide to stay on and derive sadistic pleasure out of one screwed up deathbed confession, FUCK YOU, but then again being dead doesn't leave me with lot many options to make you stop from reading.

I don't care much for you but I wouldn't be the one to question your beliefs or your agenda. After all, till sometime ago I was naive enough to think of myself as a stylized copy of Max Payne and Matrix's Neo, stylish, smart, suave, except for the fact that I was on the other side of the law. And now I sit in the bowels of hell, alone. Talk about falling from grace.

I am a... DAMN !!!! it is still difficult to think of myself in the past tense and am sure I would keep repeating this mistake, was a Hitman.
A professional Hitman.

Just to make sure we are on the same page, you know the tacky images of unshaven, unruly henchmen popular culture throws in your face in the name of paid killers??? All false. All wrong.

The keyword that makes all the difference between me and those worms of the underbelly of crime is 'professional'.

With me everything had to be properly done and organized, whole systems in place for efficiency and effectiveness.
I had a proper PR-Marketing team in place whose only job was to build up my reputation among the world's ruthless without arousing the attention of the International Police.
Client servicing was my mantra for success, both after & before the kill.
An accounting firms handled all the payment issues and I had people working only for solving logistical issues and securing raw materials and equipment.
In fact, I had delegated all the less critical functions which gave me enough time to plan and execute.

It was a proper setup.

If it would've been in something legal, my small organisation would've given the best companies in the world a run for their money.

And that is the single most factor because of which I had a success rate of 92.7%.

And I only did 'hits'. No mass kills for me. A single man, a group of men at most but never collateral damage.

I was an Assassin, not a terrorist or a mercenary.

Despite everything working like a clockwork, I still died. Talk about irony.
In hindsight, it seems inevitable though. Somewhere in my heart, I always knew dieing from old age is one luxury I can't afford, still it is basic human nature that we all push back the dirt under the carpet and I did the same. Threw out all the thoughts of occupational hazards and embraced my own false sense of invincibility.

Coming back to the story, it was a dark August night when I set out to fulfill a contract, without realizing that fate had something else in mind for me.

It was a regular run of the mill kill with little complications or chances of failures, so I was quite confident it would go smoothly.

I won't reveal my client or my kill's name to preserve the Hitman-Client confidentially but for the sake of the story I would refer to my client as Mr. Y and the hit as Mr. X.

Mr. Y was the undisputed kingpin of the mafia while Mr. X was an upcoming gangster who for a long time had been challenging his authority. Their gangwar had ravaged the city for months and both sides had incurred a lot of damage. Frustrated with his henchman's failure to kill Mr. X, Mr. Y decided to outsource this function of his business to me.

I won't bother about how I planned for a month before actually going in the kill-zone and how I entered Mr. X's heavily guarded mansion and managed to reach the corridor leading to his bedroom without being discovered, because quite frankly the finesse of the whole thing would just be lost on you.

The plush carpet inhibited any noise of my footstep, not that it mattered as my rubber soled shoes minimized the sound of my movement anyways. Paintings and antiques adorned the walls and the red-black themed color combination of the whole house gave it a somewhat gory look. A dragon mask eyed me suspiciously as I moved towards the doors at the end of the corridors and the Jade Buddha sitting at the mantelpiece with tranquility written across his face, caught my attention. Blue moonlight coming in from the windows became the mean for my illumination and the reason of the 'dance of the shadows' on the wall as well.

I stopped in front of the door and took a deep breath. There was a door on both of my sides but I knew that the one in front separated me and Mr. X.

I took out my handgun, held the doorknob and listened intently. Adrenaline rushed to my head with the unknown looming at my face.

Questions like, Had I been detected? Are there people waiting for me inside? to doubts such as, It was SO easy coming in. I didn't plan well enough, decided to penetrate my mind.

Slowly, I opened the door and walked in.

Mr. X was sitting on the bed, without his shirt with a 10 year old kid sitting in his lap. Disgusting images filled my mind but I had seen worse, so my imagination didn't torment me much.

The classic expression of bewilderment followed by alarm and finally, fear flooded Mr. X's face, which would be understandable by those who had have ever had to face the wrong end of a .50 caliber handgun.

I stared into his eyes and shot for his heart.

In spite of the element of surprise, Mr. X got to his senses quickly. He grabbed the kid and moved him in between his pumping muscle and the path of my lead angel.

The bullet entered near the nape of the kid's neck and shattered his collarbone. He fell down on the floor with a yelp and instantly started making a pool of blood on the crimson carpet. Mr. X reached for his own gun from the bedside table but it was a futile action. I shot him twice, once in the spine and the second time in the back of his head.

Mr. X's gun fell near the kid's body, in the pool of blood. Poor bastard, I had thought at that time, living a whoring life and dieing just as unnecessary. Then I noticed the kid was actually trying to move. Now, compassion might not be my first virtue but I tend to think up of myself as a just and normal human. There was a kid, bleeding to death by my own bullet, at my feet. A bullet not intended for him but making him part of the collateral damage nevertheless. A kid who maybe had lived all his life in the despicable clutches of Mr. X. The least I could do was to put him in a more comfortable position.

I tried to move the kid on his back in order to pick him up and put him on the bed. The moment I turned him on his back, the kid shot me. He wasn't a kid. He was a midget, a dwarf. Suddenly, Mr. X didn't seem like a monster anymore. He was only gay, with slightly weird sexual preferences for a partner.

The midget had gotten hold of Mr. X's gun while I was dealing with my compassionate side. The bullet whizzed past my right ear and landed harmlessly in the wall behind me. The only damage that occurred was to my right ear and that also due to the sound.

My natural reaction would've been to shoot him twice in the head but because I was in shock, I shot him three times. By this time even the deafest of Mr. X's guards would've been alerted due to the havoc created by the midget, so time was the essence for me.

I turned around and saw a figure standing in the doorway. This time my natural instinct took hold of me and I calmly shot him only once.

There was a lot of commotion happening around the mansion and I decided to use it for my escape. I glanced at the two bodies lying near the bed and a sense of accomplishment came over my soul. As I passed through the door I saw that the person whom I had shot in the doorway was also a midget. At that moment I was thinking 'Nowhere in my dossier there is any information that Mr. X had such a deep rooted affection towards dwarfs, the only personal details I had uncovered was that, that he had a son who along with his wife had died in a car crash and...'.

And then I was filled with dread. Horror chilled my soul. I could see the typewritten words on the dossier in front of me.

'Mr. X had a son who died on the eve of Christmas along with his wife in a car crash. Mr. X was named the legal guardian of his grandson (now aged 12) who lives with Mr. X and whose bedroom is adjacent to Mr. X's bedroom.'

I stared at the pool of blood at my feet. My eyes finally adjusted to the dim light and I saw that at my feet lay the body of a 12 year old kid and not a dwarf.

I fell to my knees and peered into his lifeless grey eyes.

I knew at that instant life as I knew it had finished. The sense of peace and the feeling of contentment lost forever. I had lost my soul. These eyes would torment me every second of the day. Sleep, Sanity, Joy, Happiness all were gone forever. I had killed an innocent kid. All my pride in my training, in my principles, in my methods, in my calmness turned to ashes. I had killed a child, depriving him of the chance for his first kiss, his first beer or his first drive.

I got out of the grounds in a daze. Reached my safe house without realizing what was happening around me. And said a prayer. For his soul and mine.

I told you I died in the end. I just hadn't mentioned that only my body had survived.

Love makes the World go... NUTS !!!

People talk about love as if it is something wonderful. In fact most of them (or us or you or maybe me too) don't stop at just that. We make it something wonderful, something so amazing that it is worth more then everything else in life put together.

Every book one reads and every song one hears is all about love, either it's agony or it's ecstasy. It's as if all the people in the world are in a conspiracy to persuade themselves and others to believe that there's a wonderful something just around the corner which they can get if they just try hard enough.

They hypnotize themselves into thinking of nothing else, striving for nothing else but just waiting for that emotion to take control of their lives and take them on a ride where only happiness and joy will engulf their souls.

AND during this they miss all the other splendid things of life.

Time for a Heartbreak :-/ OR Shotgun is a Man's Best Friend :D

"Is it time already?"

"Yes sir,it is. Time to break your heart sir."

"Oh well, we both knew this would happen sooner or later. Anyways, will you bring my shotgun up please?"

"I already have it here sir. Have cleaned it all, in and out and have also put in two extra rounds for contingencies, sir."

"You are the best butler ever. Even Jeeves can't match up to you."

"Thank You Sir."

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Don't know whether am down or feeling like on 7th heaven. But this is for sure P.G Wodehouse is the best writer EVER. :D

Moving on

Moving on.

Maybe the greatest and most amazing words created in any language. The remedy to all the world's problem, all the heartache, every bottled up emotion that has been taunting you, choking you down and pushing you deeper into the whirlpool of self doubt.

Last three years have been a fucking roller coaster. I've come to terms with the fact that the Heartthrob in me will always remain. Discovered the path to attain nirvana or getting drunk/high, same difference. Figured out that beneath the mask of a great witted clown resides a charming seducer and deeper still a poison boils under. And finally stopped giving a shit about everyone else.

I've forgiven and forgetten about my two ex-gf's cum best friends. Reduced the number of best friends from a mind blowing 7 to a healthy 3. Cut down on cigi's and vodka (Yes...all the girls who have been breathing down my neck for the past year, find other jobs), and started a MBA where they expect us to give a 100% attendance.

Love has become a forgotten emotion, pity and sympathy have been reserved for the deserving, Friendship still rules while anger has started to raise its ugly head more than I would've wished for. Irrationality and eccentricity are the new mantras to live by and patience and understanding are again thrown out of the window.

I'm on a dating and getting laid spree. Flirting with anything that moves prettily. Pool and Snooker are the new passions.Driving Still relaxes me,inspite of the traffic snarls of my dear old city and have evolved from fiction to more intellectual stuff (Porn stories are still my number 2 most read and always will be).

However, moving on doesn't mean that I'm getting off this ride. I have so much fun on it. It just means am not gonna puke anymore after staying too long on it and won't EVER get on it with a full stomach.

Sorry everyone down below.

Me, Music, Condoms & Something about my Family

This started when my dear old Dad (yeah right Old... girls fall for him more then they fall for me and my bro...talk about competition at home) said to my mom (she looks more like my older sister...has been mistaken for a college girl in the past...why do I have such Dysfunctional family???)," I don't understand what they are singing but I like what I hear"(it was an Akon song "Mindstate of a Mobster") ,but it was the next line which actually started the thought process,"they are teens,('they' here signifies me and my brother & my dad keeps forgetting we have grown up quite a bit in the last 20 odd years but I give him the benefit of doubt, he was not around when we were growing up, busy at the border and stuff) while I'm not...our tastes are bound to be different." For him the dialogue ended right there but for me it was the initiator.

Everyone, or usually everyone, thinks that being from Generation X-,Y- or Z-( I've no idea I'm part of which by the way & quite frankly don't give a rat's ass) is all about having those wild times,when the adrenaline is pumping high and your mind is just taking a vacation in some irrational, irrelevant place. It is the time of the carefree attitudes and the time when we let go of the rebel in us, do whatever we want, drink the night away, experiment with dope and pot (finally deciding dope is better but more expensive so I ought to stick to my packet a day of cigarettes), have countless love affairs and go out of the way to help a buddy out of a tough situation even when it means we'll become a party to whatever fuck your mate decided to land into (including a freaking police case...man Sush what were you thinking??). We do it all, giving the impression of wasting our lives.

I actually am quite a lucky guy in this respect that I've got understanding parents, who maybe are very simple and innocent that they believe everything I tell them, including a gum that smells of cigi's or are rather onto me knowing every time with whom I'm with or why it is essential for me to take a night time stroll with matches in my pocket. I fear it is the latter and instead of praising my over-smartness I should thank lord for their nature (or maybe for the fact both have been through the same motions, Dad specially...He was a Rockstar in his time, still is actually with his branded suits and cargoes and leather jacket and shirts, a Tissot watch on his wrist, Ray Ban sunglasses and racing antics at the Greater Noida expressway in his Chevrolet SRV...I got one hell of a role model ).
I never had to switch channels when an adult scene played on in a movie. Never I had to justify to my Maa why I had a girlfriend whom I used to bring home and suddenly there is no mention of her. Even when mom found a pack of half open and empty condoms in my almirah she listened to my take that it was just part of a 'dare', laughed out loud (I still got a feeling she knew the truth) and never mentioned it again.

Of course there have been times when my parents had gone through dilemmas of their own and have behaved in purely orthodox fashion but I understand. They are confused whether they should act like modern parents and give us a home where we can talk about virtually anything, from being gay to asking Dad for a drink(I drink with my Dad so sue me...he taught me the difference between scotch and premium whisky and developed my taste for vodka...his thinking goes that now that you know of the evil and are comfortable with me, you'll drink with me where I can keep an eye on you and look out for you or atleast let your better sense prevail & won't get talli...I overheard this... I GOT THE BEST DAD...YEAH I LOVE HIM !!!) or they should teach us the values and tradition that have been installed in them by their parents.
They learn each day how to deal with two vicious monsters in the house, balance modernity and traditionality and in turn show us what parenting is all about (and maybe that's why I have a feeling I'll be a terrific dad... I got two great role models in front of me ).

I know maybe I won't ever get the opportunity to tell them what a great job they are doing and they have actually reared us quite well, have installed the values of love and care in us, made us compassionate and yet at the same time shown us the perils of the world, made us street smart, gave the best possible life that someone like me deserves, listened to my situations, solved the worst of my problems and been there for me (my bro is the good son so I have the duty to keep shaking the lives of my parents to install some excitement in their lives).

And yeah a special mention of my Mama, he is a Gemini like me, cool as a cucumber, got a great sense of humour and one of the most intelligent persons I have met. We are not as close I would like us to be but just so he is very important for me. As my Mom once said about me to my Nani ," Antriksh doesn't care what we'll think but he sure as gives a lot of weightage to whatever Akhil says(my Mama), he kind of worships the ground I walk on (I never knew that it was that obvious !!!) but follows him blindly".

And as for my Music taste, Dad asked for some golden oldies and gazals to be downloaded from the net, which I had already done so, and he said "Now you are developing a taste for some good music".

Yeah right Dad... All thanks to you. (Wait till he hears songs from Zeest, Honey Singh and Linkin Park I have in my collection.

PEACE TILL THEN !!!

Towards Nirvana...with Smirnoff & Rothman

The smoke swirled around his head for some moments before dissolving into the night. He threw away the stub and for the first time in a hour took air into his lungs without the accompanying fumes.

The stale smell of tobacco engulfed him and he could taste the acrylic butt of the cigarette intermingled with the burning aroma of vodka. His insides were on fire but it was the fire within his mind & soul that had forced him to take the cheap course of 'the stick & the drink'.

You will die one day... Your smoking will kill you ...stop doing this to yourself...please...

He was tired of gazing at the stars. He wanted to get up from the cot and go downstairs and sleep in his bed. He wished for a good life, a comfortable life, without much worries, much pain. He wished for so many things. He wished for amnesia. To forget everything and live life afresh. He wished her to come back. He wished his present girl to love him back. He wished for the uncertainty of his existence to go away. He wished for stronger stuff. Something that would choke his lungs with smoke, taking out all the air and leave him gasping for his breath. Something that would burn his throat more effectively and set his insides on fire with a new zeal. Something.. anything to deviate his mind from this feeling of helplessness.

"If only I would've foreseen this and arranged for some dope..."

Please don't ever leave me...even if you would have to fake your love and care just do it...be around me forever... never leave me...

In the end she was the one who left him.

You gave her your best shot but it was not meant to be...accept it and move on...

He lit another stick.

"If only...". He forced his mind not to dwell on this line of thinking. If that would have had happened, he would've been wishing for something else altogether. Human mind always wish for something else, it is never satisfied with what it has in his hands. "How will a person who has nothing left to wish for live??" he mused and abandoned the thought as soon as it was formed.

Everything is written...whatever has to happen will happen...that is inevitable...

He needed more juice in his drink but discarded the thought aside for he wanted a searing pain in his head the next morning. A hangover he desperately craved for but which has evaded him throughout his life. No matter how much alcohol he take, he always woke up the next morning fresh, a little late but without any effects of the night before.

"That would be a welcome change... I'll welcome all the physical pain in this world just to forget this heartache". He poured more rum and whiskey into his glass instead and gulped the cocktail down in one go. It wasn't a warm night and the chilly wind entered his loose shirt and made his body cold, yet he didn't feel a thing. Every drop of the amber coloured liquid sent blazing, warm shivers in his body. Every pore radiated a hotness he had never felt before.

She had come back into his life that morning only. Crying. But he didn't feel a thing. He didn't allow himself to feel a thing. He pitied her, felt sympathetic but that was it. He would've felt the same for anyone else he knew. He didn't feel the same special way as he did before when he was with her.

You have killed the feeling of love in yourself...you don't love her..you don't love your present girl...you don't love anyone...

He recalled the conversation he had with his present girl. Poor baby is herself going through a lean patch,trying to figure out her calling in life.Poor girl.

You don't love me...you think you love me...you want yourself to believe that...

"What would she say??" the image of another girl sprang to his mind. She loved him or at least she said she loved him. A smile started to appear on his dry lips. "Definitely she is gonna go bonkers...dead sure she'll use all the obscenities she knows".Cute. Pity he was always so cruel towards her. Always made her cry even when he didn't want to.

Will you ever say 'I love you too' back to me???

He lighted another cigarette and took in a long drag."Well that's a new personal record, two packs in a hour"

Life was throwing curveballs at him and like everyone in this world he was not backing down. He had no option...No one has any options...Everyone plan and everyone's plans go awry, yet no one learns and they keep following the bloody vicious circle.

"One day my life will slow down and I'll be in total control of it...I'll fucking attain nirvana, will be unaffected by everything...will be more indifferent then I'm today...more cynical...and who knows even figure out happiness"

He threw away the half finished cigarette.

Atleast now he could boast about something to the girl who loved him.

She would be so happy.

Tenses

Past, Present and Future. The main three tenses of the English language. And the three states which prevail in everyones life, all interconnected and each and every one of us struggling to make peace with at least one of them.

Some of us are worried about our future, struggling with the unknown, scared of the uncertainties, and living each day to figure out what next life might throw back at us.

And then there are the ones coping with the past, the unnerving fight to make amends with everything that has happened, trying to tidy up the mess that was created by them and struggling to put the pain behind them.

The 'present strugglers' are fighting to live happily or to them just being alive will suffice. They are the ones who have accepted that they can't change the past and have no hope for the future so the only priority they have got to live the present moment and add it to there kitty of 'things-that-worked-out-in-the-past'.

There are one another type of strugglers too in this world and actually these are the ones who hold the majority. The 'All of the above' group and I know about this one with all the details because I'm a part of this godforsaken community.

The most misunderstood of them all, me for starters trust people, the ultimate sin of them all by what I've heard, some think the most major mistake I make is that I believe in the goodness of others and where there is no chance of any good coming out, I just hope.

I never signed up to be hurt but I did and from some of the most unexpected quarters, People who used to say I was very important to them forsook me and worst of it all I forgave each and every one of them, took in the pain and tried to put it in the basement and threw away the key. I tried my level best to be understanding and follow the codes of civility but to no avail. I still remained the bad guy in there books and I'll always remain that,I have accepted this.

But alas these are the moments, when everything just starts to settle down, it is when the most strongest and opportunistic of them all, strikes back as if it has been waiting for all this time just to catch you off guard. The past comes rushing by with his sword of memories and arrows of deja vu and this is the time when the actual struggle begins.

The smallest of words, the simplest of gestures, the most melodious songs, and sometimes people, places all conspire against you (unwittingly) and bring back all the moments you were trying to forget. The most delightful of conversations with friends causes you to reach for the phone and pour out your sadness to someone who you believe (and hope) cares. The most unintentional reactions of someone brings all the anger within you to the surface.

And then there are his siblings Present & Future both of them just as unforgiving. The strikes of the future are compounded by the aid lent by the Present.

But what is the reason of all these struggles? To make our future more brighter or to improve all the decisions we have already taken?

Of what I've learnt is that this is not a fight and definitely not a struggle. this is simply a pursuit. A Pursuit of Happiness and Peace. This is life. To learn from everything that has happened to us, to make sure we do not do it again in our present and hence totally rule out the chance of finding us in the same situation in the future. The three tenses Past, Present & Future are not the devils of our lives, they are just what you think of them to be. They can be your nemesis and at the same time they can be your best friends. Its you who have to decide what they are going to end up like.

As for me, if you are wondering that maybe from all the bad experiences I have stopped hoping, stop believing and thrown trust out of the window you can't be more wrong. I was always an optimistic and guess will always remain one. I'm capable of nothing less than eternal hope.

Its just that I've learnt to make walls around my basement.Works fine for me against the dirty little tricks the Past plays.

Let me know what works for you.

Revised & Revived

Since when did my life become a canvas of colours??? Rather than painted it is splattered on the poor surface.

I know this is the time of Modern and Abstract arts but call me old-fashioned or anything, I’m an old timer. Call it my tendency of resisting change or my stubborn attitude, I’ll rather have a Sistine Chapel or a Mona Lisa on MY canvas rather than whatever today is considered as ART.

So many of emotions, so many of after and before effects have made themselves comfortable in my life for my comfort. Sometimes I wonder whether my Life was always this complex or this is a new phenomenon showing its effects known? Whether my life was always this simple or that I’ve removed my Rose-tinted sunglasses?

From Love, Pity, Anger, Rage, Sadness, Amazement, Acceptance, Denial I’ve gone through it all in this past months.
Whatever might be happening or has already happened in this phase of my life, I’ve learnt a lot, Found out about people and now am in the position to add one another Hero in my ‘Batman-Superman-Phantom’ cliché.

And this is just one of my minor steps to take the control of my life back into my own hands.

The Revival of ‘SPACE-O-NOMICS’.

Applause anyone???