Am not able to get myself to blog the past couple of days. I hope I'll be back on my fingers the next week. Am pasting this shortie from a past blog. Some of you might've read it, some mightn't. I wrote this at a time when I was on a 'crime-thriller-genre-spree'. My 'Tequila shot' was the first of the series. Not that I've written a great many shorties in this genre, but nonetheless...here goes.
She picked up the receiver on the third ring and was about to say 'hello'. Cross connection. She recognized the male voice, her husband's. The other was a female voice, unknown.
"You'll have to be patient, Priya. See..."
"Don't you priya me. You know I've waited long enough."
"4 years, Hemant. Four long years. Isn't that enough?"
Her blood froze as she heard the two voices pulling at each other inside the instrument. Then suddenly she remembered she had to breathe. She cupped the mouth of the receiver and let out a long, shivering sigh and continued listening.
"Ok, enough of all this. When are you going to kill her?"
"Shh, Priya, not on the phone. Please don't talk..."
"ok, ok. but when?"
A long pause. Long enough for her eyes to fill.
"Don't know. I'm very busy these days. Maybe next week."
"You're lying. You can never do it."
"No, Priya..it's just that..."
"You can never do it, Hemant. Admit it."
"No. NO, I can."
"Ok, I will wait. But next thursday...I want to see myself at the mourning."
And the line died.
She had to virtually tear the receiver from her ear and replace it on the cradle. It felt like a dumb-bell.
The house was crowded with mourners. Some wept quietly into their handkerchiefs. Some sobbed heavily. Others looked on, gravely. Priya dabbed her bloodshot eyes and sat in a corner, looking shocked. A hand on her shoulder jolted her. She looked up.
"You are here, Priya. Mourning...and it's thursday. I hope your wish is fulfilled now. That's what you wanted, right?"
Priya sniffed and looked on in disbelief as Asha rose and walked slowly toward Hemant's large garlanded photo.