“EXCERPT FROM, “THE GREAT SOUTH INDIAN ADVENTURE” ONGOING SERIES ON WATTPAD.
The ruined world in the ruins of humanity. Houses left into rubles. The stench of dead bodies from a corner and of gunpowder from another. One child cries, blood all over his face. One mother searches for her child. Here I sit in a dark room awake, staring at the ceiling, tied around with rope on a chair. I keep having the same dream every day, I don’t know what it means. I am kidnapped by goons on my vacation. I don’t know where my friends are, I don’t know where I am. I was considering not coming on this trip. I even thought of canceling it at the last moment.
I was waiting for a cab and I wanted to call Mahesh and tell him, “I can’t” “Some emergency has arrived” “I’m sorry” but that’ll look like a thought out story. That’ll mean I did not want to come. But, I wanted to go. I had to, all this year I have been thinking about Sonal. I have been angry, which leads to frustration, then to rage and destroys my writing. I wanted to go on this trip to tell Sonal to fuck off and tell her I have moved on. I never knew I would get kidnapped, left in a room in the middle of a Karnataka village with nothing but only water to drink.
The door opens and there stands the same shadow.
“Money,” the shadow asks.
“For the thousand times, I am telling you this, I do not have money, our money got stolen,” I said.
I remember giving money for the tickets, and the weed we took, the roofies, the rape drug. The room around me is smelling of my urine, these guys do even allow me to use the washroom. The food tastes bad, like its year old. I want to get out, meet my friends to check if they are alive or not, but I have to find a way out of this ruckus I am involved in.
The world is a shitty place and everyone around here only wants to snatch away things from you.
“Money or life,” the guy says as he enters the room.
“Nothing, neither,” I said.
He kicks me, throws water down my face. I gulp and gargle and choke on it. I try to sit up but can’t help myself.
“You must choose,” he said.
“I already told you, we don’t have money,” I said.
“I gave you the costliest weed and drug, and you have no money,” he said.
“What?” I asked.
“It was the driver who gave us the drugs and the weed, it was him and he gave us for free,” I told.
“I want the money from you,” he said.
“Otherwise you die,” he said.
“Where are my friends?” I ask.
“They are safe somewhere, don’t worry”
“Take me there,” I said.
“No,” he said.
He took his gun out, loaded it.
“What is your last wish?” he asks.
“Seriously, you are going to kill me for weed?” I asked.
“Also for roofies, I need money otherwise I settle things with life,” he said.
“Last wish?” he asks.
“Please do not kill me,” I said.
He chuckled, kept his gun on my head, pressed it tighter. My life played in front of my eyes. My first day of school, first kisses and first porn film, first trip to south India, this one right here. Now everything is ending.
“Let me do the countdown,” he said.
“1……..2,” he said.
“If you do not tell you story, your last wish in the count of five, then this bullet hits your head it becomes a watermelon. Just to let you know, cannibals are living in the corner of this forest, they’ll like eating fresh Mumbai meat,” he told.
“We can negotiate,” I said.
“Yeah, only with money or your head,” he said.
“I don’t have anything to say,” I said.
“Then die,” he said.
He lifted his arm and aimed at me. I can smell the gunpowder and blood. I can smell death. Think hard what is the last thing you want to do before you die. Before your head gets splattered and get fed to the cannibals, think hard.
Gunshot. Darkness. Silence. Splattering sounds, water gushing out, liberation.
No, when I open my eyes, I see him standing right there. He shot something else to scare me.
“Last wish”
“Sonal”
I don’t why after four years she came to my mind. But her face still haunts me.
Ashraf Shaikh 