Those That Get Left Behind

      It was nearing nine p.m.; the waxing crescent was setting peacefully in the West. Indifferent to the chaos going on underneath. A controlled chaos. The so-called 'Night Life' of Mumbai's youth. Imbeciles just want to drink and roam about all night long. Completely irresponsible and unhealthy.

     I was on my way back from my office. Expected that my son wouldn't be home, as it was the birthday of his… what do you call those things? Girl-Friends. Whatever. If the future of our planet is in the hands of these teens, then God better have another meteor ready.

     All of a sudden, everything went dark. It was a blackout. "Shit just went out of hands," I muttered to myself. For then immediately, the neighborhood screamed. The little children I can understand, but why do the youngsters have to scream like some goddamned monkeys? "Tumcha aaila, it's just a blackout!" Cursing in Marathi, I pulled out my phone and let its flashlight illuminate the way home.

     On the way, there is a shortcut through a dark alley. No criminal history, or accidents haunt this place's past. But it has an overall gloomy effect, that keeps most people to the main streets. I snigger. The thing reminds me of Ruskin Bond's 'A Face in the Dark.' I couldn't stop giggling while reading that. Absolute comedy.

     I was pretty deep into the gully, when I stopped and whirled around. Were those footsteps I heard behind me? Nobody there. "I should not have drunk that carbonated drink" I said to myself. I turned back around, but instead of putting my foot forward, I just jumped back. Because I found myself face-to-face with my milkman. Now, jumpscares do not scare me. But our milkman had died two years ago…

     The instinct of an animal to danger is fight, flight or freeze. But I was paralyzed inside out. The only thing functioning was my heart, which was working as if it desperately wanted a pay-raise. "Afraid?" He asked. I could barely think about anything to whisper. "I know what you are thinking. 'This guy died right?' 'How's he here?' 'Is this a ghost…'" "Well, are you then?" The question was asked rather loudly. He looked me in the eyes. "No." Raised a hand and put it on my shoulder. It felt very… alive.

     "Y-You are alive?" "Yes," he said. "I am very much alive. He made me sit on a bench, and offered me a bottle of water. I was too confused with reality to refuse. He said, "Four years ago, there was an accident. The flyover bridge at Kandivali had collapsed. Do you remember?" "Yeah, it was all over the news. The one near the Stark Industries factory?" I asked. "That's the one. It was given out by the party Illuminati, that twenty vehicles had fallen, that no one survived." He looked me in the eye. "My milk van was one of those very unfortunate twenty vehicles that had fallen. And I was inside it."

     I said, "How are you alive, then?" He said, "Easy. I never died. When me and few others were found alive in that hospital, Illuminati bribed the doctors, took our near-dead bodies, and dumped us here, hoping we would die one day." I was shocked. "W-why would they ever do that?" "Because," he said, "The bridge was built by Hydra, who is the opposition party to the Illuminati. So they picked a chance to rise. The collapse was their golden opportunity. Our deaths would mean that people's trust would deviate from Hydra to Illuminati." "Yes, you're absolutely right. Because the following elections, Illuminati won." I concluded. "See? Our fate. It did us dirty."

     Suddenly, the lights came back on. The youth of the city shouted once again. "So," I said, "how's your family?" "Oh, they think I'm dead, so I haven't seen them at all." "What?!" The situation was just getting darker and darker. "W-w-w-why? What? How? They don't know…" "Nobody knows. And that's why I need you to keep quiet, please." I wasn't fine with anything happening anymore. "Why? Why don't you come back to reality, man? I'm sure if you will approach the police…" "Yeah, ask the police, they'll jail me for life! Ask the hospitals to check my vitals, they'll say I'm either a corpse or a madman. And…" his voice shook. "Do you think my family will be able to digest the truth? With our superstitions?

     "The dark, murky waters of politics are deadly, toxic for men like you and me. So go. Go, Mr. Pawar. Go and live your life. Take care of your parents as long as you can. Spend time with the woman you love as much as you can. Watch your son grow, and train him to be a responsible man. Those in power affect all our lives, directly or indirectly. I had the ill fate of being at the bad ends of one of them. But I pray to God, your family is blessed, and must stay blessed. Get up now."

     I got to my feet. "Can I trust you with my secret, Mr. Pawar?" I looked in his eyes, with tears in mine, and said, "I don't know who you are. You died four years ago, and that's it. Goodbye." Turned around, and continued walking home.