Eleven Pipes

“It’s already late. Madam would kill me for sure”. Sindhu the housemaid muttered to herself. A typical low paid housemaid with a husband trying to overcome alcohol addiction, Sindhu’s hopes of a better life were all vested in the bright future of her two children. Sindhu had been on leave for the past two days since her youngest daughter had her term exams. Besides, getting late on Monday’s was not something that the ‘madam’ of apartment number 21 tolerated.

Today is going to be a long day. Sindhu thought with despair.

She had barely reached the top stairs of the five storey apartment when she remembered that she forgot to bring the milk bottle from the security room downstairs. Good luck keeping your job today, she cursed. She hurriedly opened the unbolted door to the living room.

She turned as white as a ghost at the sight which awaited her.

There was a pile of people lying in zig-zag across the room, all with their eyes bulged, mouth stuffed with cloth shards and yes, dead. Sindhu screamed on top of her voice and fell down unconscious.

Sub Inspector Vikram was doing his daily rounds of the city as usual when he got an urgent call from Skyline apartments. Something in the caller's voice suggested him that he is on the verge of an unusual murder case.

The Mehta family had been living in the apartment for almost nine years now. They had been notorious in the neighbourhood for their disregard of the residential society’s rules, non-cooperation and secretive manner. Vinayak and Aswini, the Mehta’s children were carbon copy of their parent’s in every manner. Both worked in the city. Leave before the city wakes, come back late night, that was their policy.

Vikram took another look at the crime scene which unraveled before him. The scene was under control with forensic experts analyzing every nook and corner of the flat with the police trying to keep the steady stream of public at bay. The house maid and the neighbours were undergoing interrogation.

The spacious living room was crowded by a pile of dead bodies, men and women about eleven in number scattered hither and tither. The Mehta’s themselves were lying on top of the expensive sofa with their hands held tightly. The dead bodies were clad in white Saris and shirts with Sindoor on foreheads as if they were performing some rituals. It was a high profile murder, an entire family murdered in a single night.

Or was it a suicide?

“This is total craziness. I cannot but wonder if we are looking at a cult scene, Vikram”. Inspector Aaditya couldn’t contain his fear.

“Even I was thinking the same. I can neither make heads or tails of this. Everything about this house strikes me wrong. The Mehta’s and their relatives, those who are lying there”, Vikram Pointed at the bodies by the corner and resumed, “were either murdered by a gang of criminals after meticulous planning or this was a family suicide. But what big reason would cause an entire family to commit suicide, I simply don’t know.” Vikram finished with a look of exasperation.

“That’s bad Vikram, this case has so much media coverage. The public would soon be demanding answers now. Besides we can’t let such a mass murderer or murderer’s if it was a murder, to be on loose for long time. Right Vikram?” Inspector Aaditya looked at Vikram with a questioning glance.

“Yes Sir I’ll try my best.” A mask came over Vikram’s face. Damn, a seemingly perfect day it was in the morning. After all, his marriage was only last week. He was just about enjoying his new wife’s love. Can’t let the media ruin his career now, can he?

“Oh and by the way Aaditya Sir, there is one small matter that I can’t get my head around, maybe you can shed some light upon this?” He took the inspector to the far corner of the living room. Near the middle of the room, right through the wall were placed eleven pipes. The pipes were recently built into the wall. They were a few centimeters long and opened right outside the flat.

“Whoa! What is this? Is this how architects nowadays add ventilation to rooms? But this is not a common ventilation system is it?”

“That’s what I’ve been wondering too Sir, definitely this is not a ventilation system. To what purpose they would do such a thing, I cannot fathom.”

Vikram was about to turn back and head to the living room when he almost collided with the widely agitated forensic analyst Kumar Shanu who came running up to them.

“My dear Vikram, I simply cannot believe my eyes. I found the suicide note.” Shanu was shook beyond wit.

“What in the world?” Eyes full of disbelief, Vikram read the note enclosed in a transparent plastic cover.

The note read:

My dear whomsoever who reads this,

You know me by the name of Deepak Mehta, husband of Smriti Mehta and the much beloved father of Vinayak and Aswini Mehta. I, my children, my brother and his family would be dead if you are reading this letter, the unfavourable outcome of a supreme test to reunite with my father and attain Moksha. Yes, Deepak’s father, or should I say me, the Sanman Mehta? You might be confused at this point. Keep on reading and all shall be clear.

Yes, Sanman Mehta is dead, but his soul always remained with his children, the Mehta family. The God’s chosen family meant for greatness. When Sanman, that is me was unruly taken away from this world by a tipper accident, the greatness was all but on the verge of destruction. I couldn’t but leave my children at such a time, they needed my help. My earthly body was destroyed, but I decided to come back. I talked with my clairvoyant younger son Deepak and we came into the mutual conclusion that I was to possess his body.

Hey, you may laugh the ungodly masses that you are, for you may not trust in my philosophies and discoveries.

Certainly, it was quite a hard task to convince my other son Chandra and the rest of the family. But my son Deepak did the job admirably and finally when they realised that their own father is in front of them, it was quite a moment, to be reunited again with one’s family.

But they had much further to go. In order to fully transcend finite senses and confines of the human body and brain and to become one with the Supreme God, to ultimately attain Moksha, they had to pass the one final test.

They had to go through the eye of God.

If you look carefully, you might be able to see a set of eleven pipes near the Pooja room. The pipes are nothing but a passage for the soul to travel between the dimensions.

Through years of careful deliberation and the soulful insight, I devised an ingenious method for attaining Moksha. 7 days of Pooja followed by the separation of soul and the body on the eighth day.

On the eighth day my sons and family would suffocate themselves to drive the soul out of the body. The soul would travel themselves through the pipe to the other dimension and experience the unknown. By God’s grace, they would be pulled back and reunited with their bodies. The wisdom gained through the process would be so great as to be benefiting the entire humanity, for generations to come.

But if you are reading this letter, it means that my sons have failed in their ultimate task. Their souls must have stayed on and on to explore the ultra dimension more and more, travelling deep and deep. They must have realised that the humanity was not yet ready for the knowledge they found.

But you who read, fear not, my sons have reached their destiny. They must have become one with the God by now. Burn their bodies now, for the material body is of no use to the enlightened souls. “

“Goodness Gracious! The fellow was either extremely mental or totally psychic ” Inspector Aaditya exclaimed with incredulity. The wonder felt by Sub Inspector Vikram was no less. On the pretext of the so called ‘enlightenment’, the guy knowingly or unknowingly murdered his entire family! This was unlike any other case that he had ever seen. Deepak Mehta must have gone awry living within this very flat.

A follow up check at the medical records of Deepak Mehta showed that he had undergone multiple treatments at various hospitals in the city for mental abnormalities. Inspector Vikram speedily closed the case as a mass suicide of mentally abnormal or disabled people out of his necessity to prevent the blow up his career and to fly on a honeymoon trip to Maldives with his much beloved wife.

Whatever be the conclusion of the case, to think that ten other members of a family believed the ramblings of a mentally unstable person seemed incredible at least to some. The family might have believed Deepak’s stories based on some convincing evidence from his side.

What if he was indeed possessed by his father, Sanman Mehta?

What if the pipes were indeed a portal to the other dimension?