It was a summer night of 1999. Nirav’s been sitting for hours in front of the typewriter. There was a deemed light in the room and a study lamp on the table. He could not write more than a few words that evening. He poured some whisky into a glass on his study table and lit a cigarette. He held the cigarette in his left hand and the glass of whisky on the right. Opened the door and walked out to the corridor. It was dark, he could not see a thing. He could hear the crickets chirping and frogs croaking. He switched on the light in the corridor and sat down on a rocking chair.
Once a renowned celebrity, Indian fiction writer Nirav Sachdev published his last novel four years back. Every writer in their lifetime experience a creative slowdown, a condition known as writer’s block. It passes with time. Its every writer’s nightmare, sitting in front of typewriter for hours and days and months unable to write a word. Emptiness inside the head is replaced with depression and psychological breakdown. Nirav’s been experiencing this for past four years.
In 1995, he moved to Ooty with a hope that change of place and environment might help regaining his creative abilities. His friend Vishal owned an ancestral house in Ooty, he was looking for a buyer as he was in need of money for his new business. When Nirav came to know about it he jumped on it and got a fair deal. He always wanted to live in solitary, in a hill station like Ooty or Darjeeling. He could write from anywhere and visit his publishers and managers few times in a year.
After success of his fifth novel – ‘The Man Who Stared at the Stars’ – a dark psychological thriller, he signed another contract with the publisher but they needed the first draft of his next novel in six months. A year had passed but he couldn’t finish the first chapter so the publishers stepped back. He had to return the payment to the publishers. After that his condition became worst. He started forgetting things. It was names and places at first but over the time he started getting memory lapses. He started writing for local magazines and some newspaper columns to make a living. He was married with a six years old daughter but his wife realized that they couldn’t live together any longer. They got separated last year. Now Nirav a man in his early forties lives a depressed and miserable life in solitary.
Nirav finished his drink and went inside the house. It was ten past nine when he noticed the wall clock. He slowly walked near to the study table and stared at the typewriter for few moments. He suddenly felt suffocated. He snapped and banged the empty glass on the typewriter. The glass broke into pieces. Then he lifted the typewriter with his hands and crashed it on the table. He just stood there starring the empty walls for few minutes. He picked the door key which was hanging on a hook on the wall and rushed out. He locked the door from the outside, put on his loafers and started walking.
He started taking a stroll and walked aimlessly. There was no street light on the road but he could see it clearly in the moonlight. After walking for few minutes he realized that he couldn’t walk any further. He felt an acute pain in his right leg ankle. He had gout because of his not so healthy lifestyle and excessive drinking. He stopped and looked around. He saw a bar few steps ahead. He thought to sit down for some time and have another drink and head back home.
Nirav walked to the bar. There was dimmed red lighting inside the bar. He was surprised to find a bar in a deserted place like that. He could see one or two men far in the corner. An English rock song was playing in low volume. He looked around, walked to a table and sat down. Couple of minutes later a waiter came to attend him.
‘Would you like to order anything, Sir?’ the waiter asked.
‘Yes, whisky on the rocks, large.” ordered Nirav.
‘And anything to eat?’
Nirav thought for a moment and said ‘No, only the drink please’
‘Sure sir’ the waiter left.
Nirav sat quietly waiting for his drink. He could hear the men in the corner talking, he couldn’t hear it clearly though. The waiter arrived with a tray. He kept the glass of whisky on the table and a plate with some fries.
‘I didn’t order the fries’ said Nirav.
‘I know sir’ replied the waiter ‘Its complementary’.
‘Oh, I see. Thanks’
‘Let me know if you need anything else. I will be around’ said the waiter and walked to the other table in the corner.
Nirav was enjoying his drink, he heard someone suddenly. ‘Excuse me! Can I join you?’ asked a lady standing next to him and sat opposite to him before Nirav could respond anything to her.
‘I hate to drink alone in a bar’ she said with a smile.
She was wearing a white fedora hat which was slightly aligned towards the front. The lighting in the bar was also deemed so he couldn’t see her face clearly. He could only see her face down from her nose. He noticed the dark red shades on her lips as she was speaking. She was holding a drink in her hand. It looked like cosmopolitan, the drink.
‘You are Mr. Nirav Sachdev – the famous fiction novelist, aren’t you?’ asked the lady in a curious tone.
‘Famous huh?’ chuckled Nirav criticizing himself.
‘Yes, I’m a big fan of your work. I’ve read all of your books- Tale of the Tears, Dark was the Night, The Day I Met You and The Man Who Stared at the Stars’
‘Stains of Blood’ added Nirav.
‘I’m sorry?’ asked the lady.
‘You missed my fourth book – Stains of Blood’ replied Nirav. ‘The Man Who Stared at the Stars was my fifth’.
‘Yes of course. But what happened after that?’ asked the lady ‘I looked forward for your next novel but it disappointed me every year. Then I thought you probably retired from writting’
‘Yes I have been taking a break from writing. Thinking to start again.’
‘Oh wow! Whats the plot? I’m very excited to know.’
‘No plots in mind yet’ sighed Nirav.
‘Oh I see. It will be another trendsetter in the world of Indian mystery fiction I’m pretty sure’
There was a moment of silence as they both were sipping their drinks. ‘I have an interesting story’ the lady started. ‘A real incident actually’.
‘Really?’ asked Nirav curiously ‘Well, I have plenty of time’.
‘Not very far from here there lived a lady and her daughter.’ The lady started telling the story and Nirav was listening to her eagerly. ‘Her husband, man of the house was a writer, just like you. It was a small happy family. The man loved his wife and daughter very much. Days passed, the man was not doing very well in his career. He had not published anything notable in years. He used to drink but his condition soon made him an alcoholic. All his life’s savings was slipping down like a sand clock. His wife started selling her jewelries when her husband had no work in hand. She asked her husband to give up writing and take some other job. He was stubborn, he continued to drink all day and sit in from of the typewriter unable to write more than a few words.’
‘She paused for a moment, sipped the drink and continued. ‘They started fighting. A few times in a week at first, then a few times in a day. Finally, one day she gave up on him and decided to leave him. She packed her bags and went to tell him before leaving. It was a summer night just like tonight. He was sitting in front of the typewriter and trying to write something. She told him that she is leaving and taking their daughter with her. The husband couldn’t take it calmly, he snapped. They started arguing. He forced her to change her mind but she was committed to her decision. While he was trying to hold her hands, she pushed him. He snapped, grabbed a glass from the table and smashed it on her head. The glass broke into pieces and there was blood dripping from her head. She crashed on the floor.’
‘Their daughter was standing in a distance when all of this was happening. She started screaming in fear after seeing her mother’s condition. The man realized what he had done. He quickly checked on her wife’s body. She was not breathing. The girl was still crying and screaming. He ran to her and tried making her quite. He put both his hands on her face to stop her screams. She tried fighting to release herself but the man tightened his hands on her mouth. She struggled for some time and then stopped. She stopped moving. The man released his hands but she was not moving. He didn’t realize that his attempt to make her quite suffocated her to death.’
‘He held the girl’s body and cried for hours. He was sitting in the dark room with two dead bodies. After few hours he stood up and closed all windows and doors from inside. There was a store room in the back of the house, it was part of the house but seldom used. He pulled both the bodies to the store room. Switched on the old top door storage refrigerator. Lifted his wife’s body first and dumped it in the refrigerator. Then kissed his little girl and left her with her mother. Closed the door of the refrigerator and locked it. He cleaned the blood stains and moved the bags to the store room and locked the door. He thought to dump the body somewhere in the valley late in the night.’
‘After arranging the house to look like nothing had happened, he poured a drink. After having couple of drinks he dozed off. This horrific incident tormented his mind. Next day morning when he woke up, he didn’t remember a thing. He remembered that his wife was going to leave him and take their daughter with her. Everything that had happened after that was a long memory lapse for him. He called some of the relatives but no one knew where she was. Her parents had passed away years back so he couldn’t think of any other place where she could have gone. His condition became worst in the coming days, he started forgetting more and more. He drowned himself in alcohol and he could barely remember the face of his wife and child’
‘Excuse me Sir!’ Nirav heard a voice. He looked the waiter was standing in front him. ‘Sir, it’s time to close the bar. You should go home now’ the waiter requested him politely.
Nirav looked around. No one else was there. ‘Where is the lady who was sitting here?’ he asked the waiter.
‘A lady?’ the waiter seemed surprised. ‘Sir, I didn’t see any lady here tonight’
Nirav seemed uncomfortable. He paid for the drink, tipped the waiter and rushed out. He started running. He was limping due to his ankle pain but didn’t stop. Reached home in few mins. Opened the door and rushed to the store room. The store room key was in the same key chain. He opened the store room and saw a storage refrigerator. There was a tiny lock on it. He couldn’t remember where the key is. He picked a hammer from the corner and hit it hard. The lock was broken, he opened the top door. He was socked, there were two dead bodies inside it – a lady and a girl. Both the bodies were covered in ice. The bodies looked pale and were slowly rotting. He looked at the lady’s face and tried wiping ice from her face using his hands. His hands were shaking and heartbeat was thumping. He couldn’t recognize the face it was disfigured over the time. He started crying aloud and shut the door. He walked inside the house and cried louder and louder. He stopped at the study table and picked a piece of broken glass. Looked at the broken typewriter and pulled the sharp glass on this wrist as hard as he could. He screamed as loud as he could. Blood spattered all over the table, all the white papers turned red. He closed his eyes and crashed on the ground.
-RP (BlueInk Blog)
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