Desi Train

Chapter Three : Where there is Fun, there is Shock

Present Day

“They are dead!!! They are all dead… Wake up. They are dead. Do you understand that? Get out of here.”

Aryan was still dazed from the explosion that took place a few feet away from him. He was still trying to steady himself. He turned back to take a look. He could have been killed himself, had he not walked out of the café to make a phone call from the phone booth across the street.

But he had asked me to stay here. He had asked me to wait until he arrived. Where was he? Where was Sidhu?

Sidhu may have tried calling him, but his cell phone was dead. He stood next to the phone booth, the air was filled with dust and smoke. He could hear the sounds of crying all around him.

I have to get to Sidhu.

He punched the number and dropped the coin in the slot. A few seconds later, he received another shock, when he heard the automated voice…

“The number you dialed no longer exists”

Oh MY GOD!!! This was Sidhu’s plan. That bomb was meant to kill me!

Aryan quickly started walking, snaking his way through the oncoming army of ambulances, fire engines and police cars.

WHY SIDHU WHY???? WHY?

His brains were shooting questions all around. The only person who could answer those was Sidhu. Aryan started running. A couple of blocks away from the explosion would help him find a cab. He knew where Sidhu would be and Aryan was going to confront him. And if need be… kill him.

—————————————————–

Thirty days ago

“You want me to cut his throat?”

“Yeah… just hold the knife like this and slide it like this”

“Holy Shit! I’m not doing that. NO WAY!”

Aryan was repulsed by what Tanya was asking him to do. They were at a club in Johannesburg. Tanya had lured the target into the ladies restroom and Aryan had followed them. By the time he stepped in Tanya had already knocked Qasim Ullah on the floor where he sat nursing his head.

It had been a week since Aryan flew out with Sidhu to Mauritius. There Sidhu had introduced him to British born Indian origin Tanya. The next day Sidhu asked Tanya to take Aryan with her on the mission to Johannesburg.

Aryan still didn’t know what the mission was about. He had asked Sidhu many times on how he was involved in the scheme of things. Sidhu simply asked him to be patient.

Whatever the mission was, Tanya provided a glimpse of the blood and gory that was about to enter Aryan’s life.

“Hey… have you cut a chicken?”

“Well yes… I’ve chopped them in my kitchen… but they were already DEAD!”

“Ok then think he’s already dead. Come on, hold the knife”

“Hell no… I’m not killing anyone. I’m just a business executive from Bombay”

Qasim who’s neck was on line, finally spoke.

“Oh you in Business… what kind?”

“Communication devices. Satellite communications.”

“Wow. That is interesting”

“Yeah it is. HELL WAIT… We are about to kill you and you are fucking interested in what I do?”

“Well I was simply trying to distract myself”

“Well I don’t know about you but you did distract me for a moment”

“Shut the fuck up you two. We have to kill this guy. So take this knife and slide it by his neck just a quarter inch above his Adam’s apple. Come on, let’s do it.”

“No way. No fucking way. You do it.”

“Listen to me… this way he dies a painless death. He’ll be dead even before you move the entire length of the blade off his neck”

“Hello! I can listen. Are you discussing making a sandwich or chopping my neck off?”

“So what’s the problem?”

“What’s the problem? You are fucking asking me to kill him. Take a life. It may not be that big of a deal in your books, but fuck… just the thought of it is making me throw up”

“Then throw up, wash you face, come back and slice him up. That way there won’t be any resistance before and after the deed”

Qasim was amused. He was sure now, that this was some kind of a joke.

“You are a bunch of amateurs”

Tanya took offense.

“What?”

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“By this time any professional would have killed me a dozen times over”

“Umm… damn it you are right. We are just amateurs out here to rob you”

“I knew that. Now fucking leave this place and here take my wallet”

His phone rang.

“Salamalaikum Janab. Yes yes. We already know that… Yes… It is 2KN46OS…”

Tanya and Aryan stood there while Qasim spoke some strange numbers over the phone. Aryan was confused… and too some extent felt stupid, not knowing what was going on.

Qasim signed off and placed the phone in his breast pocket.

“Now… where were we”

Tanya folded the knife and stuck it in her ankle high boots. She reached behind a back and took out a small pistol.

“Thanks Qasim. It was nice knowing you”

Her first shot found Qasim’s Adam’s apple.

“Whaat…” Aryan stood there shocked once again. He had come to learn the unpredictability in Tanya, but this was way beyond.

Tanya moved towards Qasim who was trying desperately to gasp some air. It was pointless. The bullet had shattered his air pipe and blood was draining out of his body in a fast steady flow.

She knelt in front of him… watching him intently. Qasim was not looking at her. He wasn’t looking anywhere. By the time Tanya moved two of her fingers to check the pulse on the side of his neck, Qasim Ullah was no more.

Tanya got up and looked at Aryan.

“I forgot about it. Using a gun is far less messy than using a knife. Let’s get out of here”

Aryan took one last look at Qasim’s dead body before hurriedly following Tanya out of the club.

“Where are we going now?”

“San Francisco”

“Could someone please tell me what is this all about?”

“Ask this question to Sidhu”

“Where is he? I haven’t seen him in a week”

“He’s in Lebanon talking to Hezbollah”

For the first time Aryan questioned his decision. Maybe I was better off sitting in Bombay leading a boring life

——————————————————

She slapped her hand on the bathroom mirror. It was more pain than pleasure. And he would keep going on till eternity, if she didn’t do something to make him stop.

But there was not much she could do. He had bent her over the bathroom sink and was slamming his hardness in her from behind.

“Not so hard… please… aaaa… it hurts…”

But it didn’t stop him. It, on the contrary, egged him on. Her pleading turned him on. A woman begging him was pure air to the flames raging within.

He had grabbed her hair and had twisted it around his fist, as he jerked the hair towards him as if riding a pony, to make it run faster.

“No please… it hurts”, there was no pleasure now. The pain was becoming more uncomfortable. For once he seemed to be listening. He took himself out her. The pain immediately seemed to fall out of her system.

Then without a warning he slammed it back into her body. This time he used another door to enter her… “NO NO NO NOT MY BUTT… PLEASE”

The pain shot right up in her body. And he wasn’t listening.

“Please it hurts…” She was pleading.

It just turned him on more and more. He slammed her head on the bathroom mirror.

“Noooo,…”

He started breathing faster. He was slamming inside her harder than ever.

The pain was unbearable now. She started crying. “Please stop… it hurts”. The first of her tears dropped into the wash basin over which she was made to bend over. The faucet wasn’t tightly shut. She saw drops of water drip on the white base of the wash basin mixing with her tears.

As he reached climax, he pulled her towards him, sinking his teeth deep on the side of neck… and then, he let go.

She watched him from the bed, as he was putting his pants on with a lighted cigarette stuck in the corner of his lips.

“You are an animal”

He looked back at her, and gave her a half sarcastic smile.

He put his shirt on, and was out of the door.

She got up from her bed and looked through the window. The black Mercedes speeded off the driveway of her house a minute later. It would be back, when the animal in the driver of the Mercedes, would wake up again. Right now she had put it back to sleep. But it would wake up… by next week, if he is still in town… “or if he was still alive…” she murmured to herself.

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This entry was posted on Tuesday, August 1st, 2006 at 1:58 pm
Filed under Fiction, One Masala Life
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