The Consignment

There was someone banging the door. Moolchand was annoyed and yelled, “I am coming! Wait a few seconds…”

Moolchand opened the door and was surprised to see the King’s men at his doorstep. The messenger handed over a scroll to him and waited. Moolchand read the scroll and his face lit up. He was to deliver a consignment of goods within two months to the location that the King had ordered. He would be paid a premium price. The King wanted nothing less.

* * *

“I need the job very badly sir. My wife is seriously ill and I need the money to pay for her care. The medicine man is very expensive!” pleaded Natwarlal.

Moolchand pondered. Natwarlal was a trustworthy man with a family here. He could definitely use him to deliver the consignment.

“I have other people waiting to take this. If I were to give this job to you, I will only pay you 80% of what I would pay the others. Are you willing?”

Natwarlal nodded his head in agreement. His sick wife was his priority and he was ready to sacrifice some cash for a job that would keep him busy for the next two months.

“Ok. You will be paid by the King’s treasurer when you deliver the goods. Your family is collateral for me until you return with the cash. Collect your dues on delivering the cash to me!”

* * *

Natwarlal left the village in the bullock cart on the long journey with the King’s consignment. It was a perilous journey. Halfway through, he was waylaid by dacoits. They beat him black and blue and left him when they found out that he did not have any cash.

One of the bullocks fell down while navigating a treacherous path and injured its legs when he was about two weeks away from his destination. Natwarlal had to trade that bullock for another one at a nearby village and he was lucky enough to find a buyer. The bullock he got was much smaller and weaker than the one he had earlier, but at least he could move on with his journey.

He was worried about meeting the time commitment.

* * *

Natwarlal reached the outskirts of the city. He could see the huge construction work going on. He was happy that he had reached on time. The King loved his wife very much and was building a monument for her. King Shahjahan called it the Taj Mahal in memory of his queen Mumtaz. The King’s consignment of white marbles from Rajasthan, one among the many hundreds from all over the country had finally made it to Agra.

“Deliver the marbles there and collect your cash!” ordered the soldier at the checkpoint.

* * *

Natwarlal was happy to return back to his village. He gave the cash to Moolchand.

Moolchand counted the cash and was happy that everything was in order. He then gave Natwarlal his due.

Natwarlal counted his money and was surprised to find it less than the 80% that he was promised. He was seething with anger. “It looks like I am being paid less. That is not fair.”

“When you were away, your wife died. We couldn’t hold her until you returned, you know. So, I paid for the funeral. I have discounted those charges from your wages!”

Natwarlal fell to the floor and cried inconsolably. Even the hard-hearted Moolchand was shaken by Natwarlal’s grief.

After a few minutes, Natwarlal gathered himself up and said, “I would like to buy some marble for my wife’s tomb with this money. Can you help?”

“Yes,” Moolchand nodded his head.

The Traffic Stop

“I am very happy that we moved out of that single bed room studio in Cincinnati!”

“Me too! At least for the next two years we will be here in the Detroit area. The company has allowed me to use the leased Camry for another month until we find a suitable apartment and buy our own car.”

“Okay then. Your friends had already mentioned a few apartments that we can check out. Let us go around town this evening and scout the places. The leasing offices are going to be closed since it is already evening, but we can at least create a shortlist.”

Jamuna and I decided that we will leave in half an hour on our apartment search.

* * *

It was just starting to get dark. I pulled out from the parking lot of the Hampton Inn. I got on to Stephenson Hwy. Just as I crossed the traffic light on 14 Mile Rd, I heard the sound of a police siren and a squad car followed me with its lights on.

I pulled over to the left near a Michigan U-turn, stopped the Camry and rolled the window.

“Driver’s license and registration, please?”

I handed out the documents to the officer.

“Please wait here for a moment…”, said the officer. He walked to his cruiser and checked my license in his computer and returned back.

“You guys seem to be new in town. Did you just pull out of a parking lot or something?”

“Yes sir, we are staying at the Hampton Inn!”

“Well, your car’s lights were not on. Please turn them on and have a safe trip.”

He returned the documents to me and went back to his car.

* * *

Two weeks later, I received an e-mail from a friend in New Jersey. I read it along with Jamuna:

From: ….

To: …

Subject: Driving safety tip

-----------

If you are driving in the night and you see a car coming towards you without its headlights on, be careful. Be very very careful…

It is natural to flash your lights at them to indicate that they have their lights off. BUT DON’T DO IT!

The reason is this—In some parts of the country, gangs use a macabre initiation ritual that consists of the newest member who intends to join the gang going around town during the night in a car with its headlights off. The first car that comes in the opposite direction that flashes their headlights at them is the mark and they are supposed to turn around, pursue them and shoot the driver. That is their rite of passage to get into the gangs. So, please don’t flash your headlights!

Love's labor lost (and found)

“I am sorry. I cannot marry you!”

“What? Who talked about marriage here?”

“I know you haven’t so far. But I want to avoid that conversation altogether. I don’t see that happening.”

“Just hypothetically—if I may ask—Why?”

“Let us just leave it that. I don’t want to go into explanations!”

He finished his lunch as she watched him without speaking a word. He got up and left.

* * *

“Hello Dr. Verma”

“Hi! Please sit down. Dr. Canterfield referred you here. I got your blood work report. Your blood sugar levels are high. With your pregnancy, this can be an added risk. It is called Gestational Diabetes.”

“Do we need to worry doctor?”

“It is nothing to worry. You will need to take insulin each day before meals. You need to spread out your meals through the day and have smaller portions. You also need to monitor your blood sugar every day. If you keep your sugar levels in control, we can eliminate most of the risk associated with GD. I will see you again in two weeks.”

She resolved that she will take care of herself. Over the months leading to her due date, she created a regimen for her diet and followed it to the T. She would never miss her daily exercise and walks. As they entered the sixth month, they joined a course for new parents at the Birthing Center at the Woodlawn Hospital. They learnt a few more exercises, he learnt how to count to help her in breathing while she would practice how to push. During the class, she would break out for a few minutes to get her insulin and have her snack on time.

* * *

Dr. Canterfield was her obstetrician. He smiled at them as he walked into the room with her file.

“We are now twelve weeks away. You need to get an ultrasound scan done each week so that we can monitor progress. Is that fine?”

“Sure, doctor”

They kept their ultrasound appointments on Wednesdays and he would take an hour’s permission from work to pick her up and get the tests done. Two months later on a Tuesday evening, she felt unusually wet. The next day when they went for the ultrasound scanning, the nurse checked her and was alarmed. She did a preliminary test and then came to them.

“It looks like your water broke. Since when did you feel this way?”

“From last evening…”

“We are paging Dr. Canterfield. He is on his rounds. He will be here any minute. Don’t worry. We will take care of you!”

As they waited for Dr. Canterfield, he thought about the day when their marriage was fixed.

* * *

After a lot of back and forth and initial shock and disapproval, the families had reconciled to the fact that the two of them were serious about marriage. So, they took the logical next step of arranging the formalities. A date was fixed and his family visited hers.

He hated ‘Adai Avial’. Of all South Indian food, that’s what they had for snacks that day at her home! His mom looked at him and had a good laugh as the girl’s sister brought more Adais by the time he finished.

* * *

She was on epidural and her contractions had started. The paper tape from the monitor showed the start of a big one. He held her hand tightly and coached her on breathing.

“One.. two..”

She felt the pain shoot up her spine.

“Push”

The contraction reached a peak. A tiny little head could be seen.

Dr. Canterfield used a pair of tongs to get the head out. The next contraction was coming.

In concert with her pushing, the baby’s left shoulder came out followed by the right.

The contractions were getting quicker and more pronounced. With one final push, the baby was out. Dr. Canterfield held the baby while the nurse cleared its nose with an extractor. Dr. Canterfield dropped the baby on her stomach and turned to the nurse. The nurse got a pair of scissors.

“Why don’t you do the honours?”

“Me. I can’t do that! I wouldn’t even know how to do it…”

“Sure you can.”

Dr. Canterfield thrust the scissors in his hand and he cut the umbilical cord.

“See, wasn’t that easy? Congratulations, both of you!”

The baby wailed.

Mind Reader

S

heila punched in the access code and unlocked the door that led to the lab. There was a sign on the wall that said

AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY

BEYOND THIS POINT

Sheila was twenty eight years old and had joined Dr. Russell’s laboratory as a research assistant a month ago. Dr. Russell had used a variant of functional MRI to build a prototype mind reader. She was top of her class, Summa cum laude and had published a paper on how to boost signal strengths that improved the range and capability of Dr. Russell’s mind reader. But the reason why she joined the lab was not that mind reader. She wanted to research the pièce de résistance at Dr. Russell’s lab known to everyone as Dave.

* * *

Dave was picked up by Dr. Russell when he was six years old from an orphanage. The nuns at the orphanage had a tough time with Dave. He always won every card game that they played. He never talked too much and generally kept to himself. He would find out every one of the boys if they ever played hide and seek. All the other boys thought Dave was a freak. But he got into trouble when he tried to expose Father Daniel just in time before he could harm an eight year old boy. Nobody believed Dave and he reacted violently, scaring other kids. That is when Dr. Russell was called to do a psych evaluation of Dave.

Dr.Russell had never seen anything like it before in his life. He was astonished to discover Dave. This six year old boy could read minds! Dr. Russell would use Dave to break new frontiers in understanding the mind, how it works and contribute to the greater good of the society.

* * *

Dave and Sheila were sitting at the cosy table facing each other. Sheila had the mandatory headgear that anyone within ten feet of Dave was required to wear to protect the privacy of their thoughts from Dave’s peering mind eye.

“How was your day?”

“Just like any other. You need to inform Dr. Russell that I can now hear the people who sit in the table adjacent to this wall in the adjoining cafeteria during lunch!”

Sheila consciously adjusted her helmet while Dave smiled. He continued to draw doodles in his notebook.

“You have been in this lab for almost twenty years. Have you ever wondered how it would be outside this lab?”

“Yeah, I have lived a few years outside before Dr. Russelll found me. I don’t like to recall those years.”

“I am sorry. I did not mean to upset you.”

“That’s okay. So, why do you wear that helmet, Sheila? Are you afraid I might learn your darkest secrets?”

“No, the lab protocol requires me to wear this!”

“Protocol Schmotocol… Listen! There is no one around here except for that camera on the ceiling over there. Jack is the security guard who is on duty and I know at this time of the day, he is not watching the monitors. He won’t be back for another ten minutes.”

“How do you know that?”

“Did I not tell you that I know what people in the cafeteria are thinking? Trust me. C’mon… Enough of that.  Let us play Truth or Dare. I will start. I dare you to take off your geeky helmet!”

Sheila hesitated for a second. Then she removed her helmet.

“That-a- girl! You are a sport.”

Truth – I’ve fallen in love with you, Dave. But, I’m afraid to ask or admit. Sheila hadn’t spoken a word.

Dave was stunned. His heart missed a few beats and then his mind galloped. Should I say, ‘I love you too?’

Yes, Dave you should. Sheila leaned forward and kissed him.

The Heist

Present time—3:43 PM

“Die!” he said, pulling the trigger. The muffled sound of the bullet was drowned by the unremarkable song playing on the radio.

He drove the van on the hilly terrain for almost half an hour. He stopped the vehicle for a few seconds and checked the rear view mirrors to ensure that there were no vehicles following him. He turned right, drove through the clearing in the brush and floored the gas pedal as he saw the deep gorge ahead. He threw the three black duffel bags out and jumped from the van seconds before it plunged into the gorge.. He dusted off the dirt from his clothes and walked towards the bags.

Three days ago

Kasinathan ran down the options in his mind, thought about it intently for a few minutes and finalized his team. The armored car would carry half a day’s cash transactions from Safetrust Bank’s busiest branch in the country. He would assemble a small team consisting of a fixer, who would get them access to the vault, a wheelman who would arrange transport, a trigger man who would arrange weapons.

Two days ago

They went through the plan again for the third time. Sridhar was the wheelman, Sam was the fixer and Reddy was in-charge of weapons. Sam said it was going to be impossible for them to get in and out of the vault in sufficient time and accomplish their goal. Kasinathan wasn’t happy about this, but he had to improvise based on Sam’s assessment. He would take care of Sam later. They agreed to change their tactic to an attack, precisely timed to occur when the cash was transported from the vault to the armored car.

Kasinathan would be at the branch and feign a heart attack just after the cash was readied for transport from the vault. Sam would make the call. Sridhar and Reddy will arrive at the branch in a fake ambulance within 3 minutes. They would attack the guards just as the cash gets loaded into the armored car.

The plan was risky, but Kasinathan was clear what he wanted to do.

Twenty hours ago

Kasinathan turned the DVD on. The opening scenes of The Dark Knight were his favorite. His plan wasn’t original after all. He was going to do exactly what The Joker did during that heist in the opening scenes of that movie—Kill off his entire team after the heist was complete. Kasinathan wanted to retire.

Day of heist, 2 minutes 44 seconds after Sam’s call

The ambulance screeched to a halt in front of Safetrust Bank. Sam came out along with another man who was assisting him carrying Kasinathan. As soon they got out of the building, Kasinathan jumped down and grabbed the man who was assisting Sam by his neck. The crew shot the guards who carried the cash and transferred the three duffel bags into the ambulance van.

After that, Kasinathan shot his three accomplices. He held the gun to his captive’s head and ordered him, “Drive!”

The ambulance van sped away.

A minute ago

“You were not part of the original plan. But I needed a hostage anyway, just in case the police were on my tail. Don’t try anything stupid and you will live. I am going to put this gun away”, gestured Kasinathan.

“You don’t mind if I turn on the radio, do you?” asked Kasinathan lighting a cigarette.

The hostage was silent while Kasinathan reached forward and turned on the radio.

“What did you say you did for a living?”

The hostage pulled out a Glock that was concealed under his jacket and pressed it against Kasinathan’s head.

“I didn't. I head security for Safetrust Bank that you just robbed!”

The Paper Airplane

T

here were four comments when I logged into Facebook. All of them were from schoolmates, about the Alumni reunion at school on Jan 26^th. The last one caught my eye:

‘Have fun guys. I am going to miss it. Do convey my regards to all the teachers who are still there and especially the lab attendants.’

 ‘Will do!’ I posted my reply and picked my cell phone to call other local friends who will be attending the reunion.

* * *

The year was 1979. Subbu was waiting for the school bell to ring so that he could run out. He had already made his paper airplane from a page that he had torn from his class notebook.

“I bet you this plane will fly higher and farther than any that you have made!” he challenged Zubair who sat next to him in class.

“Lets see!” replied Zubair, clearly unimpressed.

The bell rang. All the kids let out a squeal and rushed out of the classroom. Subbu picked his backpack and ran out holding the paper airplane in his hand. Zubair was close on his heels. Subbu stopped at the corridor and looked down three floors below. He kissed his airplane for good luck and pulled back his arm to fling it into the air when his hand bumped someone.

Subbu gulped. It was Ram Charan, the mathematics teacher, standing there. Subbu had his hand right near his tummy. Ram Charan clearly wasn’t amused!

 “Come with me!” He dragged Subbu, holding him by the ear. Subbu leaned his head to one side as he walked alongside Ram Charan to the staff room and he could see Zubair thumbing his nose at him as he left to board the school bus.

“Sir, I am going to miss my school bus!” Subbu was almost in tears.

A few minutes later the school bus left the campus, without Subbu.

* * *

The reunion was coming to a close. I walked out of the auditorium and noticed Joseph, an office attendant. I was surprised to see him after almost twenty years. I walked up to him and shook his hand.

“How are you doing?”

“Very well, thank you! I am very happy to see you.”

“Do you remember Subbu?”

Joseph tried hard. He was finding it difficult to recollect the face from the name.

* * *

It was 6:30 PM and Subbu’s father was getting very anxious. He was a prominent man in the city, prominent enough that he had enemies. His son did not return in the school bus that evening. He had already dialed the police to report a missing person.

* * *

The principal was tense and so was Ram Charan. They had never encountered a case like this before. Both of them were sweating as they waited. A police jeep pulled into the driveway of the school and Subbu’s father got down along with a police inspector. They both walked into the principal’s room.

“Where is my son?”

“Sir, please calm down. Mr. Ram Charan here was the last person to see him. He might have committed a mistake.”

“A mistake! What do you mean?”

 “He held him a few minutes after the school as a punishment… meanwhile, the bus left without your son!”

“I am very sorry sir. I did not mean for this to happen…”

In a fit of rage, Subbu’s father pulled the revolver from the police inspector’s holster.

* * *

Joseph could still not recollect Subbu. He shook his head.

I held out my hand and made a gesture like a revolver. Shaking the imaginary revolver in the air, I said, “Who is the driver?”

Joseph’s face immediately lit up. How could he forget that? That’s exactly what Subbu’s father was saying when Joseph ran into the office to announce the news that Subbu was at his cousin’s place.

“Subbu conveys his regards to you!”, I said.

The Mission

M

ission Vehicle MV:Khoj was nearing the dwarf planet Haumea in the Kuiper belt. It was on a prospecting mission to find precious metal that was needed back home. Commander Rajan did some quick calculations to estimate when they would reach their destination.

“Flight Officer Shradha, it looks like we have another 7 days to land, give or take a few hours!”

“Yes, sir. The nav system confirms that as of now. But once we leave the Kuiper belt, we are into unmapped territory. We will need manual navigation in 2 hours and 10 minutes.”

Commander Rajan understood what that meant. He turned to his navigator Lieutenant Kareem who was standing before the touch-screen display that showed the trajectory of MV:Khoj. Kareem was the custodian of the most valuable information resource on the spaceship, locked safely in a vault that could only be opened by two keys held by him and the Commander. Both of them would lose their life rather than lose the keys.

“Lieutenant Kareem, you should get some rest. It will be a long week for you. You are the only qualified manual navigator onboard.”

Shradha looked up briefly at the Commander and turned back again to the flight controls. She saw the reflection of the casket on her monitor. The casket held the late Lieutenant Das, the backup navigator who died three days ago in the attack by the pirate ship, Crusoe. Shradha wiped the tears in her eyes.

The MV:Khoj, slightly damaged from the Crusoe attack, roared through space towards her destination.

* * *

Lieutenant Kareem was exhausted. Staying awake for six and a half consecutive days had taken its toll on him, in spite of the stay-awake pills. These were the final hours before they descend into the dark. It was time to open the vault.

Commander Rajan and Kareem inserted their keys and at the count of three, both of them simultaneously turned them to unlock the vault. Kareem opened the vault door and carefully extracted its contents, an old paper map and a tablet of glass with some numbers etched on it. He placed it carefully on the table top and opened it.

It was an old map of the world. There were three points of reference marked on that paper map.

Shradha exclaimed, “I have a visual. There is our Earth reference… The Great Wall of China, still visible from space!” She punched in a few keys in her console and the MV:Khoj’s surface mapping cameras turned on to establish its Earth reference coordinates using the three locations on the Great Wall.

Commander Rajan took the glass tablet. If the Crusoe attack had been successful, Rajan and Kareem’s instructions were to burn the map and break the glass. The Commander punched in the numbers.

48° 51' 29" North, 2° 17' 40" East

The MV:Khoj locked in on its destination—Eiffel Tower, Paris, France: The site of 10,000 tons of steel.

Transference

M

urphy’s Law. This shouldn’t have happened. But it did. The only thing that went according to plan was the trigger of the high priority E1 escalation notification to Major Kazani and Dr. Najma. The SR-302 had woken up from cryogenic hibernation. Containment measures had failed.

The SR-302 was at large.

* * *

Dr. Najma and Major Kazani were in the war room set up for handling the crisis. Dr. Najma pulled information about the SR-302 and brought it up on the large wall-mounted displays for review. She clicked on ‘Donor’ and the following information popped up:

                Donor name: Sudesh Kolambkar

                D.O.B: Aug 7, 1980

                D.O.C: Oct 12, 2001

                ….

“This shows a Bandra address in Mumbai. Our notification protocol requires that addresses are verified and confirmed every month. The last verification was done 13 days ago. We are unable to reach Mr. Kolambkar's phone. Captain Sharma, you and your men go to Mr. Kolambkar’s residence. I need you there until we get this thing under control” said Major Kazani.

“This information was accessed by SR-302 just a few hours ago. See the ‘last accessed’ timestamp on this record!” remarked Dr. Najma.

“You are right! It is heading to Mr. Kolambkar’s residence” nodded Major Kazani in approval.  “Captain Sharma, get going… Remember, our contract allows us to terminate SR-302 under the current circumstances. So, you are allowed to engage as you see fit! There is a chopper waiting outside to transport you and your team to Bandra.”

Captain Sharma led his team out to the helipad and the bird was up in the air in less than fifteen seconds.

* * *

The SR-302 was traveling south on the Western Express Highway towards Vile Parle in a Mumbai cab.

“Do you work at the lab, Sir?” enquired the driver.

“Yes. How long to reach Bandra in this traffic?”

* * *

“Why would the SR-302 to go in search of Mr. Kolambkar?” asked Major Kazani.

“The medical records of Mr. Sudesh Kolambkar show that he suffered from acute psychosis and harbored suicidal tendencies. He has since been cured of that illness and is leading a perfectly normal life. The SR-302 was cloned on Oct 12, 2001 as shown by the records, before Mr. Kolambkar was cured.” said Dr. Najma.

“So what?” asked Major Kazani, a little puzzled.

“At that time, we pioneered the technique of transferring feelings from the donor to the clone. We did not account for the psychoanalytic phenomenon called Transference. It is a process by which unconsciously retained feelings and desires are redirected at a new object. The clone is acting on its suicidal urge except that transference comes into play. SR-302 wants to murder Mr. Kolambkar!”

Major Kazani’s phone rang. With the eerie silence in the room, Dr. Najma could hear Captain Sharma on the line.

“Major, we were late…”

Last Man Standing

I

 must break free from this prison and find her. The gate was locked and Rampal stood guard. His sidearm was holstered and he held on to the semiautomatic rifle. I looked down at my feet and the wounds from my previous attempt at escaping. I limped around wincing in pain. My food lay untouched in the corner, flies buzzing around.

Time went by and dark ominous clouds covered the sky. The sun almost disappeared and it started drizzling when the van stopped in front of the gate. They had called Dr. Gupta to check on my health. I know he will come inside to check my vitals. I was way too important for them.

Dr. Gupta got down from the van. He held his bag above his head to take cover from the rain and ran towards Rampal.

“Can I see him? I need to check if his infection has come down under control…”

“Sure, sir” Rampal pressed a button on the switch panel. A red light started flashing and a drop gate fell from the top with a screech and landed with a bang. The main gate was released open.  Dr. Gupta walked into the safe enclosure between the main gate and the drop gate. Rampal closed the main gate. Dr. Gupta prepared his syringe and signaled Rampal.

Rampal pressed a button and the drop gate moved up. In a fraction of a second, I pounced on Dr. Gupta. I pinned him down on the floor and looked into his eyes. The syringe was rolling down on the floor. His face was wet with rain and sweat. I could smell it.

Rampal was stunned. He held up his semiautomatic, turned the safety off and aimed for my head. He had already pressed the master alarm.

“No! Don’t shoot” yelled Dr. Gupta.

Rampal counted his options. I had Dr. Gupta pinned down exactly where the drop gate would fall. There was no way Rampal could bring the drop gate down without killing Dr. Gupta and me.

“I am coming in!” shouted Rampal. He could hear the vehicles screeching as they negotiated the turn that was about 200 meters from where he was.

Rampal opened the main gate just as four teams of five guards each arrived there. They jumped from their vehicles and ran straight towards us with their weapons on the ready.

I looked angrily at Rampal and walked two steps towards him. Dr. Gupta rolled over and reached out to grab his syringe. I jumped at Rampal.

“No!”

The noise of rapid gunfire drowned Dr. Gupta’s scream. That was the last thing that I heard as I died.

The next day newspapers all over the world announced -- “Khan is dead. The world’s last surviving member of the tiger species is Suri, the tigress, held in captivity at the same zoo where Khan was.”

Image: Copyright ©Laura Garabedian / www.LauraGarabedian.com

Divine Intervention

I

 shook his hand and said “We will take it”. The salesman went in to get the paperwork for our new car while I looked at Jamuna. We were both happy about our first new car, a Maroon 1998 Toyota Corolla. The salesman returned with a form and offered the extended warranty, which we took and the undercarriage treatment which we refused. Ten minutes later, we were driving out of the parking lot in our new car.

“Do you know the car is worth less now than it was a minute ago?” I said.

“No regrets, no worries… We’ve got our car now. What is the plan for the weekend?” remarked Jamuna.

“My schoolmate Meenakshisundaram is in Chicago. We can visit him this weekend.”

That evening I called Meenakshisundaram and told him we will be visiting him on Saturday. He was working for a telecommunications company and living in Naperville, Illinois.

* * *

It was a 5½ hour drive from Detroit. Meenakshisundaram was standing in the parking lot while we pulled in. It had been almost 8 years since we last met.

“That’s a nice new car. You haven’t let the Desi crowd down. You chose a Toyota!”

“Do you remember the farewell day at school when a bunch of guys dented your dad’s car?”

“Yes, that evening I just parked the car in our garage and did not tell anyone what happened. My dad was furious!” laughed Meenakshisundaram. “You guys freshen up. We’ll go bowling tonight!”

“I will make some Masala Dosas…” Jamuna exclaimed.

“Did you tell her about my first day in school and how all the boys were heartbroken?” asked Meenakshisundaram.

“What’s that?” smiled Jamuna.

“Well, my father had a transfer and we moved into Chennai. It was the 9^th grade when I joined school. When the class name list was published, the school made a small mistake. They spelt my name as Meenakshi Sundaram. All the boys thought Meenakshi was a girl. Imagine their faces when I walked in!”

Jamuna laughed uncontrollably.

We talked about various things that evening ranging from Meenakshisundaram’s escapades in school to work and family. The conversation then turned to the experience in the United States.

“You know we get all these sales calls right at dinner time. Once I got a call from a credit card company and the sales rep had a tough time with my name. ‘It is Meenakshisundaram’, I say. She asks me to spell it for her and I go, ‘M – as in Meenakshisundaram, E – as in…’ and the phone went dead.”

“It has just been a couple of months for us since we moved to the United States from India and we found something very strange! It may just be a coincidence… Every time we went to a store for shopping, we would find a happy Indian couple. They would come to us, introduce themselves and invite us to their home to meet with them and their friends. They all ran businesses of their own! America, the Land of Opportunity!” Jamuna said.

“It was always Indian couples. Either the Indian diaspora is extremely friendly or there is some other strange phenomenon going on!” I said.

“You don’t have to look any further” he said opening a closet. There were two shelves full of household items – soaps, detergent cans, cologne, moisturizers etc., Jamuna and I looked at each other a little puzzled. That was way too much for a single guy!

“A similar Indian couple met me when I was shopping at a WalMart and invited me to their home for a ‘business meeting’. Later on I found out that these are products made by a direct selling company and these folks were business owners who are compensated for bringing in new clients/business owners into the direct selling network. What you see here is from the initial cost that I sunk into that after meeting them. I had never been able to line up even one person! So much for direct sales... The products are good, so I continue to use them… These will probably last me a couple of years!”

“Okay, so is that why all those couples approached us?” asked Jamuna with a petrified look.

“It is Divine Intervention!” I said.

Later that evening we went to the Diversey River Bowl for a fantastic bowling night with sound activated lights. The next day we toured downtown Chicago – Sears Towers, The Field Museum and other attractions. We then drove back to Detroit after a memorable weekend.

* * *

Jamuna and I were in Chidambaram to attend the marriage of my cousin Ganesh.

“Can we visit the Natarajar temple before we go to the wedding reception?”

“Sure, why not?”

The hotel where we stayed was just a few minutes away from the famous temple. We reached the temple around 4:15 PM. The door to the inner courtyard was closed and we were told it would be opened in another fifteen minutes.

“The last time I was in Chidambaram was in 1991 when I applied for engineering at the Annamalai University. I ended up staying in Chennai as I got admitted in a college there.”

We sat in the stairs in the hall that led to the doors. There were close to a hundred people waiting just like us. Children were playing in the huge corridors and the place was buzzing with chatter.

The door opened and the crowd moved in. We moved along with the crowd and had a good Darshan of the Lord. We walked around the temple and stopped at one of the shrines. The priest finished the Aarti and came to us.

“Where are you from?” he enquired.

“We are from Chennai” Jamuna replied.

He pulled out a receipt book and said, “For fifty rupees, we will do an Archana on every Pradhosham and every month we will send the Prasadam to your home address. You can make the booking right here!”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” I asked Jamuna taking a step away from that place.

“This is a matter of The Divine… and it is just fifty rupees. Do you have the cash?” asked Jamuna, slightly miffed at my hesitation.

“Okay. If you say so…” I pulled out my wallet.

“That’s six hundred rupees for the entire year. What did you say your name was?” said the priest.

Tough Luck

I

t was the night before Christmas. Captain Jack Pierce had just finished dinner with his wife and two daughters when the phone rang. Jack listened for about ten seconds, scratched his forehead and replied, “I will be there in ten minutes”.  His wife Coleen stood in the hallway with folded hands. This wasn’t new for her.

Jack strapped his shoulder holster and checked his gun. Coleen got him his jacket.

He kissed her and left.

* * *

Janice Stallman was driving the beat down ’93 Caprice on northbound I-75 when her boyfriend Brad Jenkins pulled out the SIM card from the cell phone, broke it into two and threw it out the window into the snow that was piled up on the roadside.  Ten minutes later Janice pulled into a rest area. The only other car in that rest stop left as Janice parked the Caprice.

Brad headed to the men’s room while Janice stayed in the car. He threw the brown bag containing the cell phone into trash can and headed for the urinal.

When Brad returned, Janice was standing with her back to the driver side door lighting a cigarette. “You drive”, said Janice throwing the keys to Brad and walking to the other side. Brad got into the driver seat and turned to look at the back seat. He lifted the blanket. Little Billie lay there with his mouth gagged. His hands and legs were tied. His eyes were filled with fear.

The Caprice picked up speed.

* * *

“Yes, this is Captain Jack Pierce from the Royal Oak police department. We know they are northbound on I-75 and should be in Flint city limits by now. They have the kid!”. Jack looked at the Interstate map spread on the coffee table. Billie’s parents, Tim and Anna Smith, sat on the couch listening to Jack on the phone with the Chief of Police, Flint, Michigan.

Jack hung up the phone and turned to Tim and Anna. “Don’t worry about the ransom call. We will get them soon!”

* * *

Janice was caught for shoplifting eight months ago and spent time a few months in jail. Brad was convicted for trying to rob a liquor store. They met each other two months ago after they were released from jail. They were both now in the interrogation room, sitting on their chairs with their hands cuffed behind their back.

“How the hell did they get us?” asked Brad turning to Janice.

“Let me help you with that”, said Captain Jack Pierce closing the door behind him with a smile on his face.

“I must say the two of you were ingenious in your execution of the plan. You made the ransom call from the cell phone, which we traced by the way. We knew you made the call near the I-75 and I-696 interchange. We couldn’t track the phone from the towers a minute after the call. You must have switched off the phone or discarded it. You could have been driving off in any direction, leaving us perplexed! Isn’t that right, Brad?”

‘Yes, that was the plan’, thought Brad.

Jack walked up to the door, opened it and turned to Brad and Janice.

“Unfortunately for the two of you, Little Billie was a homing beacon! He had a heart condition when he was 4 years old and had an internet-enabled pacemaker installed that sends a Twitter message every few minutes! We knew where you scumbags were all the time! Merry Christmas, y’all!”

Captain Jack Pierce slammed the door shut and walked out whistling ‘Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer…’

Monday morning blues

T

he alarm clock rattled for about ten seconds before Raghavan could reach out to turn it off. It was a swiss handwound alarm clock that his grandfather got in the 1920s and he grew up waking to the sound of it every day. Raghavan lay flat with his eyes closed trying to extend his weekend by another minute. He knew his Monday had begun and reluctantly got off from his bed. He went straight to the bathroom and looked at his face in the mirror and stroked his two day stubble, thinking whether he would look good with a beard. ‘A French beard maybe’, he thought to himself reaching out for the toothbrush.

He emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later and walked across the hall and opened the main door to his house. The milkman had dropped two sachets of milk, his usual. He picked them up and walked to the kitchen. He poured the milk into the utensil, turning on the stove thinking about the filter coffee that his mother Rajam used to make. She was an expert in making traditional Kumbakonam Degree coffee that was the favorite amongst her friends and neighbors. Raghavan sighed. The milk came to a boil by that time.

He reached out for the switch and tried to turn on the light. The sun was out and it was getting brighter outside, but it was still dark inside his house. The light did not turn on. Raghavan flicked the switch a couple of time. Nothing happened. ‘Must be a power cut as usual’, Raghavan told himself. That means his morning routine of watching the news on cable TV cannot happen.

Just then he heard his neighbor Ambujam yell at the watchman of their apartment complex that there was no water flowing from the taps. The watchman said he would have to turn on the motor pump to fill the overhead water tank, but the power was out in the entire area. Ambujam had two young children who went to a school nearby and the mornings were a very stressful time for her as she got them ready. Ambujam accused the watchman of failing to turn the motor pump during the night and started fighting with him. Their voices faded out slowly as Raghavan walked into the hall from the balcony.

Raghavan opened the tap in the bathroom and heard a water droplet plop confirming the reality of that morning. He picked a bucket and hurried downstairs to the underground sump that was the storage tank that held water pumped by the metrowater authorities. There was a posse of people there, many in their night clothes, who also had buckets in their hand and a simmering anger in their faces. It was apparent why they were angry. A car was parked with its handbrake on, right above the manhole covering the sump and there was no way to move the car and access the sump below.

The crowd almost erupted in cheers as someone located the car owner who came running with the car keys jingling. He opened the car door, got in and turned the ignition on. The car wouldn’t start. There was a grumble from the crowd and someone suggested that they push the car after releasing the handbrake. Raghavan had different plans.

He knew about the only well in that apartment compound and walked towards it. The well was a modern day surprise in Chennai. It still had water and legend was that it never dried up, even during the severe water scarcity in drought hit Chennai. The builder of the apartment complex left the well intact and that was going to save Raghavan's day. When Raghavan reached the well, he was frustrated to discover that at least ten of his neighbors had beat him to the punch and were already in a queue. Sathyanand, the apartment association secretary was trying to regulate the queue and ensure that people got their water in turns.

After ten minutes, many flared tempers, verbal abuses and what not, Raghavan drew water from the well and headed back to his house. He finished his bath, taking care to use the water effectively. He picked a blue shirt and dark trousers to go with it, got dressed up. He picked his laptop bag and cell phone. His cell phone battery had also died; there was no way to charge it. He unplugged the cell phone charger from the wall, deciding that he would charge it in his office. He locked his house and went down the stairs, jumping two steps at a time holding the keys in his hand, hoping to make up for lost time.

He located his motorcycle at the same place that he usually parks. He sat on the motorcycle, released the stand and pushed it forward a few feet with his legs, getting out of the slot where it was parked. He turned the keys and kick started the bike. It won’t start.

Raghavan felt an unexplainable sense of uneasiness spread in his stomach. He got off from his motorcycle and pushed it to get outside the apartment complex into the main road. The road was empty. Unusually empty for this time of the day, whatever time it was. He knew the motorcycle mechanic shop two blocks away would be open and wanted to try his luck. Raghavan started pushing his motorcycle towards the mechanic shop when he saw Ambujam’s two children in their school uniforms riding their bicycles and on their way to school.

As he crossed a block, he found a few others like him pushing their bikes towards the mechanic shop. He also noticed that the traffic signal was down and the traffic constable was standing there helpless, scratching his head. Lucky for him, the traffic wasn’t heavy except for the cyclists and bike riders pushing their motorcycles. There was something eerie about that. There were no cars on the road; just bicycles and motorcyclists pushing their bikes.

Raghavan stopped and let his motorcycle fall to the ground. He looked up at the sky all around. In the northwest direction, he noticed the orange glow from the thermonuclear device that exploded in the upper atmosphere at 6:28 AM. Raghavan looked up, took a deep breath and exhaled. He pulled the cuff of his shirt to look at his digital watch. He tapped it twice and shook it a little. Nothing happened. The watch was frozen and showed a time of 6:2…