Thriller Short Story – Freedom
© Anand Vishnu Prakash, YourStoryClub.com
The train grinds to the halt. I look out. Its paddy fields all around. The early morning sun drenches the fields with a warm blanket. Getting up to stretch and have a smoke, I walk down the aisle and pop out of the train. Lighting up a stick , I puff on my favorite brand.
I am going to Delhi. It’s the Rajdhani. The red train glistens in the rays. Its stands out like a huge eccentricity in the sublime landscape. Gradually people start moving around, and pop out of the train too.
“So are you going to Delhi”. It’s the man who is also puffing on his favourite band. ‘No , actually I am going to Beijing, but want to piss in the New Delhi railway station’. That’s what I want to say. But I don’t . “Yes , I am” I say, pausing for a moment. Do I feel like striking a conversation? Or do I want to be left alone in these wondrous paddy fields ?
“I am going to Delhi too”. I turn my attention to the man. He’s fortyish, balding, spectacles, a wizened expression and a strange confidence of a man who likes to chat.
“That’s nice, do you live in Delhi” I say taking the conversation further.
The train whistle breaks our fledgling conversation and we pop back into the train.
We go back to our respective seats. Like a tiger who has the first taste of human blood, I am suddenly dying to talk to someone. I look around my coupe. The man in front of me is lost in a small yellow book. It’s some sort of holy book ‘No chance’ I think. He will never talk .The lady next to him is busy knitting. “No chance here too”. Well what about the girl next to her. ‘Hey’ she’s pretty.
Last night when I boarded the train, I had flopped into my berth. I had drunk a lot, so it would give me good sleep. So I had barely noticed her. ‘Wow’. She was a beauty. Late twenties, gray eyes, fair complexion, long black hair. Well not sexy, but just stunning.
“Radha, do you want to eat something”. It’s the holy book guy who asks her. ‘No’ she nods. The lady next to her looks totally disinterested. My mind is working overtime. So this is the daughter. I lick my lips. Strangely pumped up by the thought that she’s not married. But how can I strike up a conversation. It’s just not happening.
“So where are you going”. Who’s that? ‘Hey” it’s the girl. ‘Wow’, what a stroke of luck. I don’t hesitate for a second. “Delhi and you”. “We are going to Haridwar. ‘Hey, this is great’ I think. I am on man. “That’s a nice place” I add. Suddenly the girl stops. Her parents give her a dirty look, the air suddenly fill ups with tension ‘O shit’ I think. Finito.The trains come to a station, its Varanasi. So there’s a natural break and I pop out for a cigarette.
Later in the evening , I am having a smoke in front of the bathroom. “Hello” she smiles. “You know what, I know what you have been thinking”. She takes a pause and carried on “ that man is not my father, He’s my husband. And the other lady is his first wife”.
Bang. My head goes dizzy. Whats happening.
“That’s very bad” I say. “He’s fit to be your father” I blurt out.
“Yes and he’s a monster too” she says with a strange smile.
“I am sorry” I murmur.
“Don’t be, I have fixed the problem”. Then she smiles. I realize what she means. “ And all thanks to you” she says, reaches out and touches me and then jumps out of the running train.
__END__
