Rainbow of Expressions- A short story

It was a cold December evening. I was strolling past the Pike Place Street when someone caught my attention from outside the glass pane.

She sat in the Starbucks cafe, sipping her coffee and staring out of the window. The blood stained knife lay next to her handbag, covered with her blue silk scarf.

These past few days were witness to a series of murders in Seattle region. It was all over the news. While the investigations were on, it was certain that the suspect was a young lady.

I knew by instinct that the killer was in front of me. My mind was racing, my heart was thumping. I wanted to be as near to my suspect as possible, and start my keen observation. I checked the queue outside the entrance door.

This was the first Starbucks opened way back in 1971. And it’s mostly very crowded with people from all over the world. Having attained a cult status, people don’t mind standing in a long queue here. I quickly joined the queue. The wait to reach inside seemed endless. As I entered the cafe, I was lucky to get a seat not too far from her.

By instinct, I was sure that the knife hidden under her scarf was the murder weapon. The air around smelt of blood.

Crime novels have always excited me, and here was my chance to witness some action in real life. Somehow, I knew my moment of glory was ticking. I could imagine my name all over the news tomorrow, as the one who got the mysterious serial killer nabbed. I even saw my picture captioned, ‘Sherlock Holmes Reloaded’.

Thankfully, a group of students jabbering besides my table pulled me out of my dream world. So, I went back to do what I was required to do and something that I take pride in.

I started to observe my suspect for a while. It just felt unbelievable that such a young pretty face could have been a serial killer.

What was she thinking? Why would she be so dumb to bring the murder weapon to a public place? Had she lost her mind? Maybe she was done with the last murder on her list. And now there was no fear left inside her.

I was confident enough to call 911. That would be the logical thing to do and also bring me instant fame. But, then, the writer inside stopped me. This was a great chance to observe an interesting character. Possibly a psycho character. This experience would be priceless and would be crucial in my future writings. So, I decided to hang on for a while.

Human emotions have always fascinated me.  I have always believed that real emotions are very difficult to disguise.

Every time I managed to have a good look at her, I could see a new expression showing up.

She had an intense look made equally vulnerable by the fear encompassed in her deep black eyes. She seemed conscious of the blue scarf lying beside her.

There was a tinge of nervousness. Of course, she knew what was going to happen. She would be caught eventually.

Then there was panic. She seemed to be calling someone frantically, but wasn’t getting connected. There might be someone out there to rescue her.

As she sipped her coffee, there were moments when a certain evil satisfaction was evident on her face. As if, she had just accomplished an important mission. As if, she just found a new meaning in her life.

And few moments later, as she looked at the knife beneath her scarf, anguish filled her eyes. As if, she was witness to the most painful thing moments earlier.

Was it just me who could really see through these Rainbow of Expressions?

All this while, I managed to avoid eye contact with her, lest she gets suspicious.

This went on for almost an hour. And then, it seemed as though she was about to leave.

That was it. I did what I was procrastinating for a while. I dialed 911. 

“I have to make sure she doesn’t leave in the next few minutes”, I pondered. What should I do? Luckily for me, a teenage girl came frantically from the other corner of the café. She looked nervous with excitement and started conversing with my suspect. I strained to hear their conversation but could not hear amidst the noise from all over the place.

Seconds later, another girl approached with a grin as she joined the ‘Suspect’ table. Of course, I was confused. These girls were dealing with a serial killer here. Police should be here anytime now. I could not do anything but wait.

But as a group of boys approached the suspect, I knew something was amiss. Immediately I ran over to the billing counter and asked if someone knew my suspect.

It turned out that my assumed ‘suspect’ was a budding TV actress, Sheena Thomas. She was a firm believer in method acting. She was playing the character of a psycho serial killer who comes regularly to Starbucks to choose her victims.

For the past few weeks, Sheena had been regularly coming over to Starbucks preparing herself for her role. She would disguise herself wearing different hair wigs and scarfs. And today, she was preparing for the last episode where she comes along with the murder weapon.

Of course, there was no blood on the knife. It was red paint.

Now I knew why I could witness the rainbow of expressions. She, indeed, was a great actress.

What the hell was I going to tell the police officer who was about to come? I guess my face would also portray a rainbow of expressions. 7 shades of embarrassment!!

The Guitar of Character

“I'm worse at what I do best

And for this gift I feel blessed

Our little group has always been
And always will until the end”

The crowd was roaring and head banging along with the amateur band who just finished their rendition of the signature Nirvana number, ‘Smells like Teen spirit’

It was Aug 15, 2003. The big night David had been dreaming for a long time.

His band ‘Phoenix’ was competing in the ‘Battle of the Bands’ at Baga beach, Goa. They were not an experienced band, and getting an entry to the competition was quite an uphill task, especially considering the inexperienced members in the band.

Since their performance was a wild card entry, David thought it would be a good opportunity to surprise his parents. So, he had planned to take them directly at the venue on the D day. He could not have ever imagined that he would be in for a shock.

Few hours before the event was starting, David with his band members was doing his last rehearsal at Joseph’s garage room. Abraham, his father, enters the garage. He looked red with fury, and as he marched towards David, there was a perceptible tension in the room.

He paused for a moment before David and slapped him with all his might.

The slap was nasty, it was amplified by the microphone and the silence. More slaps followed before Abraham finally broke down, and said,

"You terrible piece of shit. I trusted you with all my guts. And yet, you have shamed me." 

Abraham’s biggest fear had seemed to come alive.

He was suspicious since the day he saw some search results related to marijuana on David’s laptop for a brief moment before David appeared before him. From then on, he started keenly observing his son.

David would be home late many times after his guitar practice sessions, looking jaded. His parents would think that it’s his friends with whom David was practicing.

Abraham wanted to confront him but he knew his smart son would come up with some excuse and convince him that it was a false accusation. So, he wanted to catch him red handed.

And one day when David was out, he checked his wardrobe and found a packet of weed stuffed up beneath his pile of clothes. That was it.

Back at the garage, here was David sitting at the door with his bruised lips after the flurry of slaps from his dad. As Abraham was still questioning his fellow band members, David sat dismayed knowing that all the blood and sweat his band had put up was about to go down the drain. Suddenly, the years of preparation and hard work came by flashing in front of his eyes.

David always wanted to be a guitarist. Since the time he had seen the black electric guitar first time on MTV, he had fallen in love with the instrument.

He was 15 when he insisted on learning guitar. It took a lot of time and persuasion from David and his mother, Annie in convincing Abraham that he takes up guitar lessons.

David was a natural with guitar and within a few months of learning, he started playing many of the signature rock tunes with a flair. By 21, he had finished his graduate degree, but his heart was somewhere else. He was passionate to form a rock band. Just that he never mentioned it to his parents. He was well aware of his dad’s opposition.

Abraham never thought any good could come out from music. He had known many kids going gaga over learning musical instruments to the extent they did not even complete their basic education. Only to realize that the craziness was not worth it, and there is just too much competition out there.

Also, he was aware of, how, many of the rock stars, the world over, have been victims of drug abuse and have ended up in long periods of depression. And, quite a few of them killed themselves. He got cold feet each time he imagined David to end up like one of them.

It was the time when grunge rock movement was at its peak. David’s cousin, Remo, was living in Seattle, where the grunge metal had its roots. He was of the same age as David and used to get latest rock CD's for him whenever he visited Goa on holidays. David became particularly influenced by Nirvana's Nevermind, Pearl Jam's Ten and Stone Temple Pilots' Core.

Rock music was his refuge as a teenager, when he could no longer bear his parents fight over stupid things day in and day out.

Rock was his savior when his first girlfriend dumped him for a stupid but rich guy.

Rock became his messiah for the frustrations that came packed in the daily vagaries of life.

The effect of listening too much Grunge rock, where lyrics are often shouted instead of sung in a conventional sense, particularly in hardcore styles, had a weird effect on David.So, at times, when his parents mentioned about his marriage plan, he would respond in the typical shout out way that would astound them.

These feelings of angst, of social alienation and apathy, which filled his mind were ingredients for original rock lyrics that David would keep handy for future songs.

So, back at the Garage, as David was reminiscing about the years gone by, Abraham took his time to compose himself before he could hear out David’s band members. It turned out that David was actively involved with a local non-profit organization “Koshish” whose mission was rehabilitation of drug addicts. 

During the time David was looking for a job, he devoted a lot of time towards uplifting and transforming the lives of a motley of people. Joseph and Philips were two such gems he found who had rock in their blood. Their lives had been devastated by marijuana addiction. Their families had given all hope on them and they eventually landed up with ‘Koshish’.

The proven rehabilitation techniques would not interest David. He would rather utilize the power of rock music to transform their lives. Joseph, Philips and many others had hidden potential. What they needed was someone who could channelize this wealth. Someone who would stop judging them. David, himself was planning to form a rock band for long. And he knew by instinct that he had found what he was looking for. And it was a matter of time that with the desired support from the non-profit, he had created ‘Phoenix’, an upcoming rock band including himself, Philips and Joseph.

Relapses are common during the rehabilitation programs, and Philips could not escape one either. The day before the event, David could sense that he was high on marijuana. Using his craft, David could snatch the weed supply from him. He had planned to hand it over to the local police post their event.

After listening to Joseph and Philips, Abraham could now connect the dots and clear all his doubts. Of course he had misjudged and shattered David.

Immediately, he looked for David. Finding him, standing dejected near the garage door, Abraham wanted to congratulate David and praise him for his extraordinary approach towards rehabilitating drug addicts.

But, as tears rolled down Abraham's eyes, and he hugged his son, all he could say was, "You, my son, have a Guitar of character". 

Back to the present….

‘Phoenix’ band members were winding up the show amidst the thunderous applause from the crowd. 

There was no sign of marijuana on the stage. The desired magical adrenaline rush came from sheer love of rock. Resurrecting themselves, Philips and Jospeh had lived up to their band’s name.  They had risen from their ashes of the past.

"Ladies and Gentlemen. I would like you to introduce my band members. Here is Joseph on the bass guitar, Philip on the drums. And I am David, lead vocalist and guitarist.

I love you all!!"

The Sine wave@Facebook- A short story

12 December, 2014

“You are under arrest”. A person in a regular corporate job does not hear this too often in a lifetime. And that too, first thing in the morning. Shruti was shell shocked, as this came straight from Sub-Inspector Ashok Malwe, standing sternly by her main door.

Her comment, posted late last night on Facebook, indicting Deputy Chief Minister of Maharashtra, had created an uproar in the online media. She was told that her comment accused the minister of favoring his relatives in getting land at dirt cheap prices in the interiors of Nagpur. The comment was posted at 12:30 AM, the previous night, from her account.

Innocent Shruti had not even logged into her FB account since last couple of days, let alone post a controversial comment without any proof to back it up. But the Sub-Inspector could only play by the rules. She could get out only on bail, and summon an advocate to get her out of the mess.

The land scam and the related negative publicity was getting on the nerves of politicians. And, now her direct comment on the Deputy CM’s FB page got the attention from the topmost circles of power. Even her close friend Sakshi was not spared, and was issued an arrest warrant too. She happened to Like the forbidden comment.

It was only a few days earlier that her Gmail was hacked. A spam message was forwarded from her Id to a large number of random people. But, thankfully, that did not invite any trouble. And she also conveniently forgot about it. But, now as she was sitting in the police jeep, she tried to connect the dots. She tried to explain to the Sub-Inspector a possibility that the same person might be involved in both of these incidents. That she suspected of someone, possibly a computer hacker, who is hell bent in creating trouble for her. But the duty-bound sub-Inspector won’t listen. And she was bound to face the regular brunt of interrogation. And be made to feel like a criminal!

Sometimes, when you are in deep shit, your mind wanders to the recent splendid moments of life. That gives some hope, if nothing else. And that’s what happened with Shruti. The last month was nothing short of a roller coaster ride for her. She remembered her star studded night at San Francisco, barely a month back.

Thanks to Pepsi, that ran an online contest on the eve of Lady Gaga’s concert. The participants needed to sing one of the star’s hit number and upload the video on Facebook. One winner from each participating country would win a fully sponsored couple passes to the concert. Shruti knew she was a terrible singer, but a big Lady Gaga’s fan, nonetheless. And she took her chance in the contest, though, just for the fun of it.

And, to her utter amazement, she was the One chosen as the winner. She along with Andy, her fiancé, had the most amazing time. And, in the fun and excitement of those fabulous days, she never bothered to ponder as to how on earth she, being the pathetic singer she was, could be selected.

Coming back from the nostalgic time to the ugly present where she was sitting opposite Sub- Inspector Ashok Malwe. It was still some time before they reached the police station. As she checked her Facebook on her phone, she was surprised to see messages from Prem, her ex-boyfriend.

Prem-   “I am so sorry for your current state, my dear. But you should not have dumped me for this ass, also known as Andy.

You were quick to DELETE me from every spectrum of your world after I was fired from my job. And never took any trouble to find out about me in the two years that followed.

Shattered, cannot truly describe my state when I lost my job and got dumped by my girlfriend on the same day.

Believe me, it was extremely difficult to search for a new meaning in life. But as they say, Time heals anything.

You might remember, how fascinated I was with this hacking thing. And so, when I started on with life again, I pursued my passion and here I am, a Professional computer hacker.

My love, I do concede that I have spent some of the best moments of my life with you.

And so my dear, if you take a moment to think, I am sure you will be able to understand the Highs and Lows of your life, linked in some way to Facebook, could have been manipulated by some computer hacker like me.

All the best dear, as this Wave has just started!!”

Shruti was almost frozen after she read these messages. There was something insanely evil that she could infer from Prem’s messages as she read them over and over again.

It took her some time to decide her next move. She was relieved now that Prem had admitted his involvement in hacking her FB account and posting the maligning comment on the Deputy Chief Minister. She waited for them to reach the police station where she would explain in detail to the questioning officers and would be declared innocent.

To prepare herself with the latest information about Prem, she googled him. It did not take her long to zero in on the correct Prem from the search results. Her hands covered her mouth in shock as she read the news item.

“12 October, 2013

Prem Chopra,a professional Computer hacker, who was working in a high profile case with the CBI, met with an accident on the Pune-Mumbai Expressway. On reaching the nearest hospital, he was declared dead…”

She could not read further. If Prem had died more than a year ago, then who the hell was this Prem that she got the messages just minutes earlier? At once she checked for the messages that were her claim to innocence. But there was no message now.

On reaching the Police Station, she was sitting silently on a chair waiting for the proceedings to begin. As she heard the voice of Andy from behind her, she was relieved. But could not understand why there was a roar of laughter from the staff present in the room. As Andy turned, she knew why. There was ‘Ass’ imprinted in black bold letters on the back of Andy’s white T-shirt.

She suddenly remembered Prem mentioning Andy as an ass in his messages.  And she immediately became aware of a ghost’s power both in the Facebook and the Real world.