Sometimes, it just so happens that you end up watching a movie when you're dreaming. I just want to put it to ink for posterity.
--
An oddity in the city
He returned home. His clothes are dirty, soaked in red. His body is smudged in red. Is it someone's blood?
It's not how he functions. He is a stickler for cleanliness and hygiene. This beautiful boy with curly hair. Lean and well groomed. Wearing spectacles with round lenses and thin rims, atypical of a nerd.
Mumbai's housing is physically uncomfortable. The lift is out of order. He'll have to walk five stories to his flat. There are people that are seeing him as he climbs up the stairs. They're all scared of the trouble. A man walking the stairs, drenched in... blood? That's scary to anyone. Especially when he was extremely low profile for the last two and a half years he's lived there.
They see a beautiful, curly haired boy drenched in blood, walking to his apartment, gazing into the abyss. Some of the residents are wondering whether they should call the police. The boy can hear. He moves his gaze to his neighbours, and exudes a betrayed smirk of a lost man. He loses his smirk, looks away for a moment. He sees them again, nods slowly, once. Another ephemeral smirk on his face that vanishes. He goes into his apartment.
His neighbours wondered if the man said hello, or he wants them to feel free about calling the police.
What type of a criminal leaves such a dramatic evidence behind. But none of the neighbours do anything. Even if he looks like a living breathing threat.
The boy enters his flat. He sees all his friends, three girls and two boys having a party. The dull, lost boy can see the light. He joins his friends, picks up a bottle of beer, and in no time he's dancing. He's having the time of his life. He may have attained nirvana in that moment.
One of the three cute girls is the love of his life. They embrace each other as if there's no tomorrow.
"This is the end," she told him.
The boy doesn't say anything. He looks into her eyes, and smiles. And nods happily.
His neighbours can't hear anything, though. Even when he opened his flat's door, the loud music wasn't audible to the people on the floor. Some of the residents even tried to peek into his flat. It looked normal to them. In fact, they didn't even know that he had visitors.
He was outside for two days. He just returned. In the condition that he did. There were no visitors.
The police did arrive after a couple of hours, following a trail. They looked at all the CCTV footage, from the last two days.
There were no visitors. They broke into the flat.
There was nobody. Just his clothes on the sofa. Bloodied, yes. And a really well maintained apartment. No signs of a party. Everything was in its place.
The boy was missing.
About fifteen people testified that they saw the boy, drenched in blood, walk in to his apartment. Forensics could find shoe marks on the stairs, and on the floor. He removed his shoes and socks before entering his apartment, so they could find that too. Shoes and socks had the blood from his clothes. Forensics would later find out that the blood was from three different people. They couldn't find either of them.
The other five apartments were in considerably different conditions. One of them was dirty, another one was mostly empty, with just a bed, and a computer desk with an office chair. One of them felt like any other apartment, a bit of a mess but somewhat clean in places. One of the apartments had a lot of posters, of sportsmen and fitness personalities. One apartment had all the household items stuffed in one room, with the kitchen properly set up and a mattress on the bedroom floor.
The beautiful boy's apartment looked like a home. He owned that apartment. Well, actually his parents did, but you get the point. He set it up like he'd live there forever. Properly furnished with one room set up as a home office and the bedroom set up like a bedroom. With wardrobes and closets. The kitchen had excellent cutlery. Bathrooms looked like he called professionals to clean them.
Mumbai had six people missing in last one week. All good friends. Great friends, in-fact. All six of them were missing. Forensics could match DNA from the blood samples to the three missing girls.
The three boys were missing. There was no blood sample of any of the boys in any of the apartments. The only evidence that people could find were signs of a reasonably content life.
Six people, three boys and three girls, disappeared from the face of the earth.
Urban life is strange. People can vanish. The world won't care. People who appear to be normal are deranged.
There's just too many people in Mumbai.
Or Bangalore.
Or even in tier 2 cities like Kanpur, for that matter.
--
An oddity in the city
He returned home. His clothes are dirty, soaked in red. His body is smudged in red. Is it someone's blood?
It's not how he functions. He is a stickler for cleanliness and hygiene. This beautiful boy with curly hair. Lean and well groomed. Wearing spectacles with round lenses and thin rims, atypical of a nerd.
Mumbai's housing is physically uncomfortable. The lift is out of order. He'll have to walk five stories to his flat. There are people that are seeing him as he climbs up the stairs. They're all scared of the trouble. A man walking the stairs, drenched in... blood? That's scary to anyone. Especially when he was extremely low profile for the last two and a half years he's lived there.
They see a beautiful, curly haired boy drenched in blood, walking to his apartment, gazing into the abyss. Some of the residents are wondering whether they should call the police. The boy can hear. He moves his gaze to his neighbours, and exudes a betrayed smirk of a lost man. He loses his smirk, looks away for a moment. He sees them again, nods slowly, once. Another ephemeral smirk on his face that vanishes. He goes into his apartment.
His neighbours wondered if the man said hello, or he wants them to feel free about calling the police.
What type of a criminal leaves such a dramatic evidence behind. But none of the neighbours do anything. Even if he looks like a living breathing threat.
The boy enters his flat. He sees all his friends, three girls and two boys having a party. The dull, lost boy can see the light. He joins his friends, picks up a bottle of beer, and in no time he's dancing. He's having the time of his life. He may have attained nirvana in that moment.
One of the three cute girls is the love of his life. They embrace each other as if there's no tomorrow.
"This is the end," she told him.
The boy doesn't say anything. He looks into her eyes, and smiles. And nods happily.
His neighbours can't hear anything, though. Even when he opened his flat's door, the loud music wasn't audible to the people on the floor. Some of the residents even tried to peek into his flat. It looked normal to them. In fact, they didn't even know that he had visitors.
He was outside for two days. He just returned. In the condition that he did. There were no visitors.
The police did arrive after a couple of hours, following a trail. They looked at all the CCTV footage, from the last two days.
There were no visitors. They broke into the flat.
There was nobody. Just his clothes on the sofa. Bloodied, yes. And a really well maintained apartment. No signs of a party. Everything was in its place.
The boy was missing.
About fifteen people testified that they saw the boy, drenched in blood, walk in to his apartment. Forensics could find shoe marks on the stairs, and on the floor. He removed his shoes and socks before entering his apartment, so they could find that too. Shoes and socks had the blood from his clothes. Forensics would later find out that the blood was from three different people. They couldn't find either of them.
The other five apartments were in considerably different conditions. One of them was dirty, another one was mostly empty, with just a bed, and a computer desk with an office chair. One of them felt like any other apartment, a bit of a mess but somewhat clean in places. One of the apartments had a lot of posters, of sportsmen and fitness personalities. One apartment had all the household items stuffed in one room, with the kitchen properly set up and a mattress on the bedroom floor.
The beautiful boy's apartment looked like a home. He owned that apartment. Well, actually his parents did, but you get the point. He set it up like he'd live there forever. Properly furnished with one room set up as a home office and the bedroom set up like a bedroom. With wardrobes and closets. The kitchen had excellent cutlery. Bathrooms looked like he called professionals to clean them.
Mumbai had six people missing in last one week. All good friends. Great friends, in-fact. All six of them were missing. Forensics could match DNA from the blood samples to the three missing girls.
The three boys were missing. There was no blood sample of any of the boys in any of the apartments. The only evidence that people could find were signs of a reasonably content life.
Six people, three boys and three girls, disappeared from the face of the earth.
Urban life is strange. People can vanish. The world won't care. People who appear to be normal are deranged.
There's just too many people in Mumbai.
Or Bangalore.
Or even in tier 2 cities like Kanpur, for that matter.
--
salil
salil