The decision has been made. A tough one, at that. ‘ No going back at this
last moment’ he told himself, ‘ it has
to be executed at any cost’…. It still
gave him the shivers, the very thought of what he would be embarking on. ‘It’s
all a mental thing’, he reminded himself.
‘Tough men don’t back out, however tough the task be’. At this final hour, there’s no going back too. Too late.
All plans have been made. Just a
matter of few hours. The set hour can’t
be postponed. It has to be done, however tough the job at
hand is.
Carefully, he opened the box he just purchased and spread
out the wares over the table. Gingerly
picked up the knife and examined it. It
shone brightly under the reading lamp.
The edges appeared pretty sharp enough.
Enough to slice through effortlessly, even through stone. Enough to inflict a deep wound and snub out
life, if need be. ‘Enough to complete the task’, he
thought. Placed the knife on the reading
table and now picked up the scissors. He
could not say if the implement would be up to the task at hand. After all, he has not done this before. And he fervently hoped he need not repeat it,
in case the first attempt failed. Ha,
and then the plastic gloves. ‘So that
nothing sticks to the hand’. He had taken special care to ensure there will
be no trace of blood on his hands after the work is done. And his handlers have already made
arrangements to dispose off the body safely.
No one would notice and no one would care. It would just rot inside some filthy dump and
evaporate into the elements. Ashes to
ashes, dust to dust…..
‘And there would be people around’, he reminded
himself. But of course, that should be
no problem. Everyone would be busy with
his chore. And with some luck, what he
does will not even be noticed.
Visualising the task at hand, he almost puked. ‘Why should God choose to soak me in this
blood and gore?’ he asked himself. Brought up in an orthodox Tambrahm family, he
had not even killed an ant. Immediately he realized, he had no choice. He should have thought when
he said yes, two years back, when he actually had a choice. To take that momentous decision that would
bring him to this now. But now he has
had enough. Enough, with this daily torture of waiting for the
inevitable. Enough,
with procrastination. Better be done with it. Hopefully there will be no need for an
encore. How long can one keep
postponing? He wished the moment would
never arrive but like taxes, with sure certainty, the moment has indeed
arrived. Thinking of taxes, his mind
veered towards death, another sure certainty.
He almost smiled. And then
admonished himself.
Thinking of death and daring to smile?
Thinking of death!
But what else he can think of? THIS
IS DEATH AND THIS IS MURDER. Think of
the times spent together with her? That
moment when she gently came from behind and sat on your lap like a bee perched itself on the flower? Think of the days when she even partook your
food from the same plate? Or the
numerous days when she would hide in each nook and corner and play hide and
seek with you when you go after her with a purpose? Or even dare to enter the bathroom to be
close with you when you took a shower? Ever
close but never letting you to lay your hands on? Always elusive?
But he realized that despite the closeness, despite the
daily contacts and fooling around, chasing each other and all, deep inside, he
loathed her. He actually wanted to get
rid of her and all her tribe. Sadly,
inspite of having at times made obvious his feelings that he despised her, the
poor thing just could not understand.
She kept chasing him. The farther
he ran from her, the closer she pursued him.
Now he has no love lost for
her. He just wanted to get rid of
her. After all, he has to move ahead in
life, and this is just a little inconvenience he has to brush aside.
His mind was suddenly yanked violently towards the
consequences of his planned action. What
if he failed? What if someone found
out? Won’t they ridicule him? What face will you show your neighbours if
you fail and get noticed? After all, the
failure will bring forth attention and questions will be asked. People, undesirable people, will come calling
to your home. At odd hours. But more important, how would you remove the
stains from your hand and clothes if they stuck? He shuddered to think of the
consequences. He tried to calm himself
and went over all the mental preparations he had made over the last few
weeks. ‘I didn’t ask for this’, he consoled himself, ‘It’s all fate’. ‘Mine and her, intertwined’. Just one thought seemed to console him
slightly. That she would never feel the
pain. After all these years together,
despite his hatred for her, he could not bear himself to watch her writhing in
pain. He knew she would be sufficiently
drugged before he could lay his hands on her.
He was told that she would be, no
doubt about that. And that gave him some
comfort.
With that comforting thought, he retired to his bed, hoping
to get some sleep. To sleep and wake up
to tomorrow, Monday, the D-day. The day
his task will be accomplished . By noon, the next day his XII standard zoology
practicals would be over. Dissection of
periplanata americana – the cockroach- would be over. Failure in the practicals is not an
option. Just not. He has to get a full 50 if he ever fancies a
chance at becoming a doctor….
