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A BLOODY TRAIL
By Neel Anil Panicker
Mrs Lakra stared in horror at the lifeless body that lay on the ground a mere two feet from where she was standing.
Hot tears streamed out of her eyes as she realized that she had become a widow in the prime of her life; that her husband of three years was no more, that there was now no one who she could quarrel with, albeit good humouredly, as she had done so for almost every waking hour of their shared existences.
As the gravity of her loss gradually sunk in, the tall statuesque woman burst out in wild shrieks, her heartrending cries forcing the colony denizens, most of whom were readying themselves to a spell of nightly sleep after partaking of their dinners, to step out of their houses and rush towards the park.
“He’s Akash from B Block, the affable guy who runs the photocopying business from his ground floor flat,” shouted out a bespectacled septuagenarian, his frail body shaking uncontrollably.
As the muted murmurs and bare whispers gave way to animated talks, a young man who was watching the proceedings from behind a mango tree in the far left corner of the park, quietly stepped away from the lush surroundings and skipped out through a desolated corner gate.
He held on to his wrists from which was dripping fresh blood that marked a trail on the soft earth all the way to a bylane across the road lane into which he disappeared.
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