The Story called 'Thriller'

Again I have started writing... That too after thinking of never writing anything again…Truly speaking I thought I won’t be able to write anymore. But thanks to my loving wife Radhika, I made it. No word is enough to express my gratitude to her. But first I need to tell you who I am.

I am a part time writer in the daily newspaper, “New Day”. If you are a keen reader of newspaper stories, you must have seen my name. It’s not that I have already impressed you by my stories. Probably you too have laughed at one of my stories some days back, and like the editor of the newspaper you too have already named me a “A Backdated Writer”. Actually I write romantic stories; especially those where the groom kisses the bride or a lover meets her beloved at the end of the scene. I like writing these stories as I feel very safe while reading them. I love to think of the world as a place of love.

So recently I finished writing a story on Salil and Sunanda, who were the only child of their respective parents, and fell in love with each other. Since their parents were against their marriage they left home and spent two nights in the Jungle. But soon they realised that it was impossible for them to live on their own so they returned home, but there was nobody who would accept them. But since they had spent two nights together, everyone in their village took them as Husband and Wife. So they lived happily ever after. I was very happy after finishing the story. But soon my happiness was gone as I entered the Editor’s room.

“You call this a story?? “, he was furious.

“Why? Don’t you like it?” I sounded sceptical.

“What kind of a story writer you are? You call this romantic?”

“Is it not enough? But it already has two kisses.”

“Look mister.” He paused a bit. “You should really read some modern stories.”

“Modern stories ?!!” I shouted “You call them stories??” This time I was furious.

“Look man! Your story really has nothing to do with romance. I think…” He hesitated. ”I think you need to change your writing style...”

“Writing style?” I was puzzled.

“Actually don’t mind sir. Your romantic stories are not actually… selling! So you should try something else.”

“Something else?” I was puzzled even more.” Actually I don’t know anything else worth writing about.”

“No! No! I am not telling that.” He sounded a little kind. ”Why don’t you write something else… like a thriller… ”

“Thriller?”

“Yes! Thriller! Actually thriller types are selling like hot cakes. You should try one sir! Look sir .. You are a very talented writer but these days………. “. He continued but I was not listening. My mind was already searching for a thriller. 

What is a thriller? Something that makes you have goose bumps. My life is very simple. There are no bumps in it. So it is very hard for me to write a thriller. Famous writers always have a story or two based on their lives; they furnish it by some punch-lines and one-liners and what they get is a best-selling novel. But in my case it was not so easy. I am that kind of a person who actually overlooks incidents. If I am walking on a road and there is a man beating another man in front of me, I don’t want to join the fight or protect the victim. I always increase my speed. So thrillers, incidents, accidents, stories avoid me.

But I found one at last … ….

                                     

After dinner I lit a cigarette and sat down on the sofa. I was in deep thought when my wife joined me with a glass of wine in her hand.

“Are you tensed?” My wife asked as I was totally silent at the dinner table.

“No. Not that. I was thinking… “

“What’s the matter?” She took my hand in her own.

“Actually Rai” (I call her Rai affectionately; her name is Radhika as I had previously said.) “I need a thriller.”

“A thriller?”

“Yes. A thriller. These romantic stories are not selling right now.” I sounded quite similar to the editor.

Radhika looked puzzled. “So your story was rejected..”

“Sad but… yes.”

There was a long pause between us. I was searching for a thriller and she was looking at me. She was the first one to break the ice.

“You want a thriller?”

“Yes… Desperately.”

“What if I tell you one…?” She put down her wine glass on the table in front of her.

“You? Thriller ? Sure!!“  I was ecstatic.

“I am not a story-teller. I can only give you a plot.”

So she started the story and I leaned on her lap. It is always a pleasure to hear a story from a lady.

“Yamini’s husband was a serviceman. They were not a happy couple. But nobody saw them arguing over anything ever. So people assumed them to be a happy couple.” She paused and sipped at her wine. I pulled at her glass, put it on the table and said, “First, Tell me the story.”

“O.K.!” She smiled and continued. “Yamini was never happy with her life. She wanted it to be more fruitful. She was tired of her daily routine of cooking, arranging food and waiting for her husband to come home. She wanted to have a child but her husband thought otherwise. In one words, she was disgusted with her own life. But she never thought of committing suicide as Arup was present in her life.”

“Arup, a charming young man in his 30s, was a friend of Yamini’s husband. Whenever her husband was not at home, Arup came. He was like a breath of fresh air in her life. They loved each other. Arup presented her with a golden locket with ‘A’ carved on it whereas Yamini presented him with a gold pendant with ‘Y’ carved on it. “

“Nobody suspected anything and this continued for a year or two. Suddenly Yamini got pregnant. She became very afraid because her husband could kill them both if he knew of this incident. She told Arup that she was pregnant. Arup told her to abort the child but Yamini was not ready to do so. So they decided to kill Yamini’s husband in such a way so that nobody ever suspects anything.”

“One night Yamini and her husband were sitting on the sofa. Two wine glasses were in front of them. She sat on her lap and kissed him deeply. Her husband held her tightly and was about to kiss her when she said, “Let’s finish the drink first.” Her husband was busy finishing his drink when she broke her own glass and slit his throat with the broken glass from behind.”

“Police discovered the body after seven days when neighbours complained of foul smell. The body was totally disintegrated and a post mortem was unable to find the exact time of murder. Police also found that the victim’s wife Yamini had been sleeping with her boyfriend for the last seven days. They suspected her but she had a strong alibi that they couldn’t break.” She finished and took her wine glass into her hand.

“Is it really a thriller?” I was not sure.

“Yes. When you are reading a story but cannot figure out what will happen at the end that is called a thriller.”

“But I figured out. Actually it was easy to figure out.” I sounded confident.

“Oh. Is it? “She smiled. “Then you must be very intelligent.” She came to me, sat on my lap and kissed me deeply.

“But you must finish your drink first.” I pushed her aside and laughed. She was laughing too. Then I stood up, placed my hands in my pockets and said,

“I have something for you.”

She was looking at my hand while drinking the last drop of wine.

I pulled out a gold chain from my pocket with “R” carved on it. I held it before her eyes. She was looking at it. She was looking at the blood dripping from it.

“I have killed Ranjan.” I said in a cold voice. “It’s not his. It’s yours. ‘R’ as it is in Radhika. The other one, the ‘R’ of Ranjan, you are wearing at present.” I smiled. She was still holding her empty glass. I took it and placed a kiss on her forehead.

“Have a good sleep.”

I looked at the glass, it was totally empty. She had finished all the wine that had cyanide mixed with it.

I had got my own version of a ‘Thriller’.