Heads you win, tails I lose

[It was a conscious decision to write this piece after a hiatus. This hiatus was meant to understand life, to take in every morsel, chew and grind them and relish its taste long after it is gone. And then when again I complain, thinking that each bite of life tastes the same – relive those moments when bland or bitter, any dish would have been savored and you would exchange anything for a few more moments to live, on your own terms. For context to this post, I would request to read Part 1 and Part 2 to this post.]

“P tell me something, have you heard of Darwinism,” asks S. No one seems to answer. P continues to open her purse every ten minutes and look fondly at the picture of her kid, a drop of water accumulating in her left eye and quickly wiped off. “As you know,” S continues, “every creature seems to adapt to its surroundings and develops ways and means to survive adversity. The prime example being, say a mosquito, which was killed of DDT, in the next generation you again infuse DDT, the following generation might be a bit more resistant to DDT. Right? And so on till the umpteenth generation which really becomes resistant to DDT. I have been thinking that mankind has been fighting for so long, since it almost came into existence. Generations after generations have succumbed to bullets and we yet do not have bullet resistant human beings,” puts his can down loud with disgust. And then pontificates again, “May be theres another logic to it. The DDT strain has gone down by constant adulteration of us humans, while capabilities of bullets have progressed, quarter on quarter.”

I smile back at him, “Kya S tujhe teen beer mein hi chadh gayi? What happened to your famed capacity?”

“No deary, its just that a little less agonizing when they shoot me through here,” and points towards his chest. “And here shall it be, no one shoots S on his back,” he reverberates.

Have you been to a clinic? Waited for a doctor, waited for your name to be called, expectant that the next turn could be yours? Of course you have. Now try to extrapolate the fact that as soon as your name is called, on the other side of the curtain sits someone in shape, size and hue – you know not. He or she has a kind heart and would offer you a choice – a choice of how would you like to die. How would you like to wait till the wheel of fortune points and heralds your name and you just wait for the time to come. And while you wait, you search on the internet to devour as much information as you can to add some shape, size and hue to the character on the other side of the curtain. Try to ascertain how do a 21 year, Versace wearing, grenade tottering kid would look. What does it take to walk into a hotel lobby, toss a coin, grimace awww tough luck and empty Kalashnikovs.

With lights switched off and curtains drawn, with periodic peeps through the window, with shudders at another grenade blast and another and then again another, with sips at coffee from the vending machine, with intermittent reclining, inclining, with private tears and public smiles the five of us tried our best to move the hands of the clock. As best as we could, as fast those rusty, un-oiled hands would move.

Five it was. Morning. A new day and I had dozed off and regaining my garb was a bit difficult. Where were we?

“Today’s my dad’s birthday,” said I to which S added in his deadpan humor, “oh that’s wonderful, he would need to remember less dates from now on – his own birthday and your death anniversary.” All scores to be settled if we get out alive. “Why don’t you call him?” he suggested. At 6.30 in the morning I did:

Me: Good morning. A very happy birthday to you, (brraaammmmmmmmm!) were you sleeping?
Dad: Ya just got up. Thanks. (quiet) Whats news there?
Me: All fine. So whats plans for today?
Dad: You think people make birthday plans at this age? (brraaammmmmmmmm!) Whats that sound?
Me: (quiet) Mmmmmmm.. Oh CD player
Dad: You listening to songs? At this hour, at such a volume? (brraaammmmmmmmm!) Man, no wonder you would get a hearing impairment soon. Hope you are not going to office today?
Me: No and happy birthday again!
Dad: Thanks. Bye.
Me: (after the sound of the disconnected phone intermittently went on) Bye dad.

“You know what,” quipped S, “there is this chic always on night duty on the tenth floor. If these devils do any harm to her, I am sure I will not be able to pardon them anytime soon.” And he continued on his keyboard. The moment he had finished, there was a knock on the door.

The moment of truth had arrived.

Heads I win, tails I lose. A man always faces a decisive moment in his life where you gamble. Equal odds to win or lose, to life or death.

Serendipty [ser-uhn-dip-i-tee] –noun 1. an aptitude for making desirable discoveries by accident.
2. good fortune; luck: the serendipity of getting the first job she applied for.

This is the word that flashed in my head when I heard the knock as we all looked at each other. The question for the day could well be for whom it turned out to be the desirable discovery or the divine intervention. At times when we used to devise a mischief, we asked for consensus from our partners in crime by something that we later came to know to be furtive glances. But at times when your bloodlflow freezes, such glances could well be an act of pleading, a beseeched heart insisting the other to be more courageous to the occasion. In short to rise and open the door. No one knew what lay behind those doors – a bouquet of bullets or the warmth of life.

“Open up. These are the marine corp.” Multiple and desperate knocks now. We still looked at each other. The heart argued why don’t you open the door to the marine corps. The head contravened, how are you absolutely sure they are the marine corps. Our dilemma took us quite a few precious moments. “Open up or we force in,” came the voice menacingly.

As I shivered the door latch open, the remaining four looked the other way. The person who stepped in pointed his weapon at me and we were promptly asked to line up against the wall. I could only see eyes, with one of his brows askance. Nothing on his anatomy moved other than his eyeballs. And it quickly gauged the people and the surroundings. At that very instant I heard the safety latch on his rifle resound with a chirpy ‘click!’ And without warning …