There he was. Sun had tanned the face and heated his inner solace. He had faked a smile through the morning and then restlessness had conjured up. He searched for something Dark.
Bustling with frenzy, a group of men were splashing water-colours and Gulaal across the wind-shaken arena. Celebrating Holi was not something he rejoiced for there was not a single soul who could play with the color he devoured: Red – the colour of blood.
Anyway, as he mocked a cheerful smile on his face, some of those men led their way towards him and drenched the pariah with water and gust of pink ashes. How the world turned morbid only he knew. He balanced a Water Gun and forcefully ejected water towards the sullen creatures who seemed to reach the cloud 9, through sheer temptation of folly. The act of playful gestures rolled on for some moments and then he heard voices. Voices within which was the voice of Mayank.
Now Mayank was not any other individual for him. Mayank aced the academics. Mayank never requited the kindred feel he had offered in the past. The girl he liked, had turned a blind eye towards him and went on to befriend Mayank. In other words, if he were the sole author of Merriam-Webster dictionary, the word nemesis would have been replaced by the word: ‘Mayank’.
‘Devang, look who is here!’, his mom yelled. He trotted towards the edge of the roof of the porch and peeped down at the verandah. His father was greeting the guests and Mayank stood beside them with a sardonic face. This infuriated Devang.
“M*** and his attitude”, Devang muttered.
Reacting to Devang’s parents’ beckoning, Mayank’s parents entered the house while Mayank stayed out with Pluto. Pluto was the - grey and white - Wolf Dog, Devang loved, as he always shared the same silence which the latter adored, and barked only at utmost instances.
Devang now planned for a twist in this melancholic day.
He glanced back at the men and exerted a soft sigh of double impact. One, that they were busy and not interested in the things happening in their vicinity. Second, that they were busy and not interested in the things happening in their vicinity; “a deliberate act of ignorance”, he pondered.
In the shade of the rooftop was an old-fashion, iron-made bucket with sharp and rusted iron plate lining the base. It was filled with Yellow water. Of all the great deeds that a man may perform, the greatest one is providing a still entity with some universal importance. He was about to do so.
Lifting the bucket with his tender hands, he somehow managed to pull it up across the rigid fence and endeavoured to splash water over the wuss, named Mayank. The bucket was heavy, the water made it heavier and the enmity he possessed turned it into the heaviest entity he could handle. So heavy that not only he spilled the water - which he had planned - but also dropped the bucket. The big, heavy, rusted bucket!
The crack on Mayank’s skull ripped open and blood gushed out to make the breathable air, devilishly red and hence, more breathable for the devouring serpent. Mayank dropped down on his knees. His head jerked momentarily with his neck, stiff as the beak of a Kingfisher.
Time had deluded Devang. He had not planned this. Not -at-all. Fate has always played with gods and men and then, out of the blue moon, in this methodical realm, the Old Lady was on his side. The bucket served a purpose greater than what he had aimed for. Stars had reversed their motion and kicked out the disharmony in the fate, that he was supposedly born with.
Upon hearing the loud thud, his parents and the dead guy’s parents galloped through the path and went numb after watching the cruel portrait drawn by Devang.
They lifted the paralysed body up and brought it inside the home. After hydrating her with a glass of water, they bought her dead son’s body inside.
Meanwhile, the men, stoned with Bhaang, still frenzied on with the delirium tremens. Devang slowly crept down the staircase, towards the rewarding scene. He looked at Pluto who had not uttered a squeak during the accident and now whisked his tale, as he looked into the Young Nick’s eyes and stared at the comforting bliss they provided.
Devang smelled the air and took in the taste of vengeance, ecstasy and satisfaction, all at once. Tapping his finger over the blood, he steered clear the vapours of sadness. As Pluto whisked his tail repeatedly, Devang flicked a Khooni Laal Tilak on his forehead and the latter’s face welcomed the felicity with a smirk.