Dial D’elhi for Murder
By Neel Anil Panicker
The auto pulled over after circumnavigating through two hair pinned inside lanes just behind Kashmere Gate Metro station. From it alighted its lone passenger.
In a jiffy the woman was out and walking, taking long, purposeful strides, heading towards the fork at the end of the gravelled road which stared ahead.

The old man, amusement write large on his wizened face, took one last glance at the fast receding figure. His bulging eyes then glanced at the crisp hundred rupee note in his hand. A wry smile escaped his lips as he tucked away the offering in his inside short pocket.
The man did not once bother to check the reading on the metre. He knew that today was his lucky day.
‘Hope they are as generous as this bitch’, he mouthed, and turned his auto around in search of other passengers.
By this time his ‘benefactor’ had entered the park from the side gate. There she stood for just one nano second, looked around, confirmed  what she was looking for, smiled, and then once again continued her walk, this time towards the west end.
Just about the time when the auto driver was heading towards Janakpuri, this time ferrying an elderly couple he had picked up bang outside the Metro station, nine rounds of gunshots pierced the air.
The noise created a flutter among the winged ones in the trees that lined and created a thick foliage all around the bushy park.
A few of them circled around aimlessly, momentarily disoriented, and then settled in other ‘safer havens of the rectangular grounds.

The young boy in the bushes moved, or rather shifted, albeit very slowly, his lithe body frame creaking under the weight of staying closeted in the stifling environs.
A mere ten metres from the blast site, the nineteen-year-old had time enough only to  zip up his pants and scamper out of the park, but not before hastily removing his moistened hands from somewhere deep inside the lower body part of his lady friend.
She scurried after him and soon enough the two were out of the park, but headed in opposite directions.
At about the same time a bedroom window in a park facing third floor apartment building closed shut.
‘The bastards… can’t even let an old man enjoy in peace,’ a croaking voice mumbled in exasperation.
In less than sixty seconds the sprawling DDA park, at thirteen past nine, was devoid of any human habitation, save for two, a man and a woman, whose blood splattered bodies lay on a rusty corner bench.

1 thought on “FLASH FICTION

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