Horns and a Halo

Dave McGill, spun around reeling under the left hook, Big-moose had so deftly and swiftly introduced to his face. Hands reaching out, he tried to grab something to break his fall, his wandering hands managed to catch hold of the ancient termite-infested banister of the stair-case that led up into the pantry of the kitchen where this action was taking place.
He clutched the banister and pulled himself straight, but another upper-cut which met his nose sent his feet flying under him and he landed with a gigantic thud onto to the hard granite floor.

McGill felt as if someone had exploded a grenade in front of his face. He reached out and touched his face, his hand came back red. A faint groan escaped his lips as Big-Moose gave his ribs a vicious kick, driving the air out of his lungs.
“I’ll teach you to mess around with my wife” Big-Moose spat as he continued to pound McGill.

Dave was a social worker, who had been assigned to the far-from-picturesque town of Hadenel by his organization.
It was here that he met and fell in love with Lisa Mennezes.
Lisa was the wife of Clayton ‘Big-moose’ Mennezes, who used her as a substitute for a punching-bag every time he got drunk; and he got drunk quiet a lot.
Looking for an escape from the miserable life that was hers, she wasted no time returning the affections that Dave McGill showered upon her. The two lovers planned to elope and start a new life elsewhere. All would have gone well, if not for the fact that their plans came into the knowledge of Big-moose’s sister.
Big-moose had then lured McGill into the desolate kitchen of the town pub under the pretext of having a drink. Dave, having no reason to suspect had walked right into the trap.

Dave uttered a groan as Big-moose delivered another blow to his battered chest.
“I’m gonna kill you, you filthy rat” Big-moose yelled as he stepped back and drew a revolver from his pocket. He stepped back and pointed the muzzle in-line with Dave’s head.
It was at this time that, the shaky banister gave out and fell sideways and landed on Big-moose’s head.
He went down like a sack of potatoes.
Dave slowly crawled up and using the remainder of the banister to support himself, got onto his feet. The revolver had fallen out of Big-moose’s hands and was lying by his feet.
Dave picked it up, rather surprised at the weight and held it up to the light. The ivory handle glinted menacingly back at him. Here was the instrument that would end all his troubles. All he had to do was put a bullet through Big-moose’s heart and forever end the threat to his and Lisa’s life.

“I would put that down if I were you” a sing-song voice spoke from the far end of the kitchen making Dave yell and look around perplexed. He was sure that the kitchen had been empty.
Looking around for the source of the voice, he came face-to-face with himself, the only difference between them being that the other was garbed in an old-world white robe and had wings and a halo above his head.
Dave shook his head and rubbed his eyes. The pounding Big-moose had given him was causing him to hallucinate, he thought.
“I’m as real as the sun and the sky” the other spoke, answering his thoughts.
“Wh….who are you?” Dave asked shakily.
“I my friend am Beckenthrope” the other-he answered “I’m your angel”.
“Angel???? Am I dead?”
“On the contrary, you are very much alive” Beckenthrope answered.
“Then what are you doing here, am I going mad, I don’t believe this, I don’t”
“Believe what you will, but hear me out first” said Beckenthrope , “all your life Dave we have been with you, watching you decide, watching you make your choice, between good and bad, between right and wrong”.
“Hold on a minute, we?? There are more of you??” Dave asked.
“Actually there is only one and I’m nothing like him” spoke a voice from behind Dave.
Looking around, for the second time that night, Dave came face to face with himself, only this time there was a very visible and very spooky difference. This thing, or whatever it was, though it had Dave’s face, was tinged bright red with two sharp horns coming out either side of its fore-head and a leathery tail curving around one of its legs.
“Oh-my-god!!” cried Dave crossing himself “it’s Satan!!”
“Don’t be silly” the thing replied “Satan’s got a pitch-fork; you don’t see me holding a giant fork do you?”
“Th..the..then what are you?” Dave managed to utter.
“I’m your temptation McGill” it answered “the name is Ludvik”
“My temptation?? I don’t understand……..” Dave started but Beckenthrope cut him off.
“Dave, what is important here is you, not us”
“All through your life, we have stood by and watched you make your choice” Beckenthrope continued “and today we reveal ourselves to you at the moment where you might have to make the most significant choice of your life, whether or not you will take a life”.
“He is the one trying to kill me” Dave sputtered “I have no choice, I have to kill him”
“I see you don’t need much convincing to see my point of view” chuckled Ludvik.
“Dave, mercy is one of the greatest of weapons” Beckenthrope spoke “do not stain your hands, I beg of you heed my words, let not the blood of another taint your soul”.
Dave looked down to see Big-moose stirring slightly.
“Let him live, Dave” Beckenthrope went on “let him live to see the mercy you can show him, he shall repent”.
“Shoot the son-of-a-b***h” Ludvik growled “shoot him before he shoots you”.
“Listen to me Dave, show mercy, live and let live” Beckenthrope pleaded.

Big-moose was slowly regaining consciousness, Dave looked down to see, he had sat up, and looking back he saw that both Ludvik and Beckenthrope had disappeared.
“What the hell…..” Big-moose said as he saw Dave looking down at him, the gun in his hand.
Dave lifted the gun and tossed it to a rather surprised Big-moose and said “I do not want to kill you, all I want to do is live happily with Lisa” and saying so he started to walk out of the door.

BANG!!!!!! The bullet that big-moose fired caught Dave in the back of his head, he was dead before he hit the ground.
“Fool” Big-moose spat as he walked out of the kitchen.


“He does seem at peace” Ludvik said looking down at Dave’s lifeless body “although it would be difficult to be sure of it with half his head blown off”.
“He was noble” Beckenthrope spoke “and he made the right choice”.
“He might have been noble, but he’s dead now” Ludvik replied “you know Beckenthrope, I always thought that your kind need to get an image make-over”
“Image make-over?” asked Beckenthrope looking at Ludvik “of what kind exactly?”
“Get rid of the halo and start wearing a noose…….”

To Mother.....With love.....

With the blanket wisps of wisdom,
She wraps you in her love.
From life’s stormy waves,
She keeps you safe, in a cove.
She is by your side,
When against trouble’s tide.
You’re her light, her purpose of life,
Her love knows not, joy nor’ strife.

Listen to her, for she means much,
Her pain, if ever, she’ wont let you’re life, touch.
A guide is she, in this wilderness of world,
The voice of god, never heard.

There’s much truth in that ol’ say,
God couldn’t be everywhere,
That’s why he made mother’s care……

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Grave Wisdom

Most of the times, trying to do some good just ends with you getting kicked pretty hard on your backside for your troubles. My trick, to get past each day in life, is to display an unnatural level of indifference to the happenings around me.
My aversion to the ‘do-good nature’, hammered into so many of us, right from the start, is the probable result of me spending too much time watching crappy soaps along with my mom, dealing with back-stabbing best friends, villainous in-laws, cheating house-wives and the trials and tribulations of the one who chooses to walk the righteous path…..you get my drift. So I usually keep to myself in situations that, perhaps, could have gone better for the third party involved, with my timely intervention. I have lost a good number of friends this way, but yet I choose indifference over any other option that arises in such a situation.

Even offering condolences at the misfortunes of others, usually ends up me getting somehow into the thick of things. The trouble with doing good, is that pretty soon you end up regretting ever getting yourself into it.

I remember, a few years back I had attended my maternal grandfather’s funeral. Now let me tell you, there are only two emotions that I seem able to convey, convincingly; excitement and hunger (and I’m pretty sure, that’s not even an emotion), and either of ‘em don’t have much use in a funeral, my mom actually took me aside and gave me some money to grab a bite to eat, the look I tried to pass off as remorse probably resembled my dinner-time face a little too much.


The general scenario was that there were a lot of people weeping and others speaking in hushed tones. Now, I wasn’t that close to my granddad, crying because he passed away, for me, would seem downright fake; the guy was 97 years old for heaven’s sake.
I walked around, eavesdropping on everyone; mostly they seemed more concerned about getting back to their monotonous routine and seemed rather irked at my grandfather, as if holding him responsible for his untimely death disrupting their perfect lives.
“What a bunch of hypocrites” I though to myself as I made my way over to where the pyre was kept, my grandpa’s body, resting on it’s last earthly bed.
I stood by his head, and bowed slightly and searched his face.
He seemed so…..peaceful, a look of beautiful serenity etched on his face, his head had slightly angled off on the log and it seemed to me, that it was a very uncomfortable position to be lying in, I gently lifted his head and placed it back properly.
If it weren’t for the absence of a gentle rise and fall of his chest, he looked as though he were fast asleep.
A smile came to my lips; I at least had done something genuinely nice for him.

A sharp cry brought me back to the scene; someone was yelling at me, I looked around to see my uncle making his way towards me, looking furious.
“Did you touch the body?” he demanded, upon reaching me.
“Yeah, I just lifted him a bit………..” I started but my uncle cut me off with a loud swear and spun around to the crowd, announcing to the gathering in a loud cry, “Has this boy no manners, he has defiled the body”, if you have ever seen a wild-fire spreading it’s flames and liking up dry grass and consuming everything in it’s part, you’ll get an accurate idea of how this declaration of my supposed blasphemy, was taken up by the crowd.
A chant rose up, and repeated itself all around the somber occasion making it, if possible, even grimmer.
“He has defiled the body”
“He has defiled the body”
“He has defiled the body”

“Defiled the body??????” I thought to myself, “gimme a break, this is the 21st century”
A meeting was called amongst the heads of the family and the priests, and while they talked over what course of action to take to nullify my sin, I walked past the crowd, my head down, fully aware of the looks of disgust that I was subject to by those around me.
I managed to find a safe retreat from those glaring eyes, locking myself in my sister’s car.
Finally, after what seemed like eternity, the great ones had come to a conclusion. The rites would be performed on the body again to cleanse it of my touch.
This declaration brought an almost audible groan from the crowd, and everyone looked around trying to find me and give me an earful, but the car was a pretty neat hiding place.


Somehow I managed to get through the ceremony and back home, without anymore incidents.
That night before falling asleep, I looked out of the window and into the open sky, the moon resting among the clouds, a pearly orb in the ocean of mist.
“Thank you” I said and went back to sleep.
My grandfather had left me a parting wisdom.
It never pays to be good……..

The Silver Lining......

There is no more a distasteful situation then when you’re an unwilling guest at a family gathering. Last monsoon, I had been selected to represent my parents at such a scenario (my dad insisted on drawing straws and it was my mom who drew the shortest one, but she recalled I owed her a favor for getting me off the hook with my dad over last terms progress card) so there I was on the edge of the mine-field.

Tentatively, I entered the arena; a great many numbers of my gladiator cousins had already been ripped apart by the barbarian hordes of aunts and uncles and sat looking dejected at their predicament. The only people who looked even distantly happy there were’ the ones who weren’t family. Uttering a blessing for all those poor souls, I vowed to myself that I would fight as hard as I could to avoid such a fate.

I safely managed to avoid most of the action by placing myself strategically behind the water cooler, every time I was close to encountering some nosy aunt or pestering uncle, I would hold up the glass and pretend as if nothing in the world existed except me and that Styrofoam cup (those drama classes finally paid off) and avoid scrutiny.

But, alas I had to flee my safe haven when I spotted an especially notorious and obstinate aunt of mine heading towards me determined to make sure I didn’t get out of this. Taking cover behind drapes and sheets, I finally managed to get away from the main hall and headed out to find a safe retreat until lunch, after which I cold politely get the hell out of there.

Congratulating myself upon having escaped a convoy of rather drunk uncles who were making their way into the main hall, I heard a small cough behind me.
My jubilation had been premature, I found the aunt with the rather infamous reputation, her beady eyes staring down at me with a superior smirk, one the cat probably wears when he knows the rodent no longer has an escape. That’s exactly what I felt like right then, a cornered rat.

***********

“So your mother finds it rather tiresome to come here, does she?” she questioned. After having interrogated me pretty thoroughly, I thought the answer to the question was rather obvious, but this female derived sadistic pleasure, in making others state the despicable obvious.
“It’s not like that” I replied, feeling my maternal loyalty was being called upon.
I was saved the trouble of inventing a plausible reason for my mother’s absence by the arrival of another aunt; my good fortune provided that these two didn’t exactly get along like butter and bread. If the verbal sparing these two ladies were to take on a physical form, what would emerge was a fencing match of no equal proportions. The dexterity, with which these to ladies showered hostilities upon each other, all the while making it seem, that they had nothing but the best interests of the other at heart, was amazing. Shakespeare, had he been there would have been moved to tears by the sheer display of drama.

While they were distracted with each other, I managed make my escape and spent the time till lunch looking over shoulders, making sure I wasn’t caught unawares like the last time.
After three hours and stiff back I got from perching myself on the parapet; I finally decided it was time to vamoose.
Moving quickly I made my way out in record time and I was just steps away from freedom, when I heard someone calling my name.
I turned around to find my cousin hurrying up to catch up with me, her heels, I could see, made each step pure torture, I have never been able to understand the female obsession with heels.
“Now what do you want?” I asked.



*****************

“How did it go?” my mom asked when I got back.
“Oh, not bad” I replied, a wide smile on my face.
“I’m really sorry for making you go……..” my mom started but I cut in and informed her that I would be glad to attend any such function in the future, pleading exhaustion I excused myself from further questioning and went upstairs to hit the bed.
I had to get a good night’s sleep and wake up early tomorrow.
I had a date with my cuz’s hot friend ;)

....and one for pleasure

It was THE most perfect setting, college being closed on account of some communal unrest (our beloved coastal town never seems to have enough) we were free from those bonds of academia which hold us tight to the dreary, dreadful monotonous routine of “college and back” and regardless of the gloomy cause that led up to this unexpected moment of leisure, I nevertheless approached it with great passion.

Sadly, perfection is a fickle dame.

No sooner had I completed my breakfast, the harbinger of all things bad (my cell phone) rang out shrilly, the cacophony of it sounding the curtain to my prospective fun-filled two days. It was the reminder I had set almost a week ago, I had an assignment due next day.

As luck would have it, I was totally clueless about the assignment, after thorough investigation and a dozen phone calls I finally managed to get an idea of what we were expected to present. Now as with all things good and right, knowing what to do is no assurance of actually doing it. After spending an unfruitful hour trying to get my thoughts off the green apple vodka I had been planning to have at my favorite pub, I thought perhaps a little bit of light music might help set the mood to sit and write, was I ever so damned as on the moment I hit the play button on my player, it’s one thing trying to study with music on but an all-together disaster when you have been blessed with hands, that out of their own will try to imitate the rhythm.
After an hour and two albums, I finally found the good sense (sure is rare nowadays) to switch off the music and once again tried get my mind into the job to be done. My senses were not cooperating, any sound within the vicinity was magnified and altered by my ears and read to my brain as sounds of fun and frolic.

Perhaps I could come up with something good to write if I munched on something, I proceeded to carry my study material into the kitchen. Ripping open a bag of chips and getting a chilled soda, I once again confronted the assignment.
Other than getting oil stains on it, I made no significant contribution towards the sheets of paper. Muttering a string of colourful obscenities under my breath I made my way out of the kitchen and after a lot of deliberation, I came upon the terrace as the ideal place to break this jinx, well if it was or not, I never found out,for just as I touched the tip of the pen to the paper, the skies opened up and it started raining.

I could hear the cackled laughter of the gods in the thunder.

To add to my misery, my friend called up and informed me rather smugly, that he was done with his assignment and was headed out for a stiff drink, he especially emphasized the bliss of having scotch on a rainy day such as this, hinting that I would perhaps have to console myself with a cup of coffee.

Four hours had passed by and all I had written and not scratched out was my name (I had messed up the date too). I finally conceded defeat shut the books.

The firing and public disgrace I faced for not submitting the assignment will be forgotten in time, I for one was happy, I had got my vodka ;)