Inside is Outside
Mira adjusted the straps of her heavy bag as she walked back from a long day at college. It was almost 11 P.M on her watch, so she started to walk faster, eager to get off of the streets of Yelahanka. She reached home and started to ring the doorbell repeatedly, finally and her maid Mallika opened the door.
“Where the hell were you?” shouted Mira. “I have been waiting here for 10 fucking minutes”
“I was upstairs Mira didi,” she mumbled, almost sounding like a puppy.
Mallika was a Keralite that Mira had hired when she moved in from Delhi for college. Mira, being a typical “Delhi girl” could not live without domestic help. Although she shouted at her often, she knew that she couldn’t live without her having grown up with domestic help all her life.
“Go make me my coffee” Mira demanded
Mallika scurried off to the kitchen obediently.
Mira was relieved to be in the company of her home. It was small, only because she wanted to live alone. It was a single floored house with a servant’s quarter on the terrace. The ground floor had a living room, which consisted of a maroon sofa set, a rather small flat screen and a small synthetic Chatai. There was a kitchen with the bare necessities, a microwave, a fridge, a stove, a steel kettle and utensils enough for two people which Mira had purchased. Finally there was her bedroom, which had a double bed, a Godrej cupboard, a desk where she would work, and a side table next to her bed. Her bedroom also had a small-attached bathroom, which was the only bathroom on the ground floor.
Mira went into the bathroom to take a bath; she was dirty from the rainwater that was falling from the trees because of the constant wind in Bangalore. She couldn’t stand being even slightly untidy. In between her bath, she remembered the coffee that she had told Mallika to make for her. She didn’t want the coffee to be cold, so she finished up quickly, put on a towel and as she opened her bathroom door she saw Mallika putting the steaming coffee on her side table. Mallika saw her; embarrassed she quickly left her room. Mira picked up her coffee from her side table, took a sip and let out a sigh of relief. She had trained Mallika to make coffee the way that she liked it.
Mira put on her night suit and sat down on her desk to start on the mounds of work that she had. It was going to be a long night. Before starting her work, she stared at her coffee and loved the fact that it was there, filling the room with its distinct aroma. In her cup that she had had for almost over 5 years. It the perfect remedy to her current situation.
Mornings in Mira’s house are busy and hectic; she always leaves the house in the nick of time. Mallika invariably gets a scolding in the morning; even though it isn’t her fault. When Mira leaves the house, Mallika starts to do her usual chores. She enjoys this time, because its time that she has to herself even though she has to work. She starts with washing all of Mira’s clothes, then hers. She is extra careful with Mira’s clothes even though Mira never gives any instructions to her regarding the laundry. She knows that almost all of her clothes are branded and expensive. Then she moves to the cleaning of the house. She starts with doing Jhaadu on the ground floor, first the kitchen, then the living room, and finally Mira’s room. She enjoys cleaning Mira’s room the most. She loves it because she imagines what it would be like to be her; she wonders what it would be like to have all of her fancy clothes and fragrances. There is one specific fragrance that Mira always wears that is Mallika’s favorite. Its bottle is in the form of a naked woman, it has a matte finish and its glass is tinted a deep blue color.
She was always infatuated by the bottle. While slowly cleaning her room, she picked it up. Opened it, and smelt it. It was a gorgeous fragrance. She could picture an elegant businesswoman in a suit with straightened brownish hair, collecting at her shoulders, wearing frameless spectacles. She sprayed a little bit on her wrist so she could smell it all day. She wanted her daydream to continue but then she realized that it was Mira who she was picturing in a suit. An unknown feeling suddenly took over her. One she hadn’t felt before. She put the cap back onto the bottle and realized that her hands were shivering. She couldn’t understand the feeling. It wasn’t fear, it wasn’t anger, it wasn’t envy, and then it hit her. She was disgusted, but the bottle back to its original position, quickly cleaned the rest of the room and left as fast as she could.
She couldn’t get that feeling out of her head for the rest of the day. That visual, of Mira walking up to her in a well fitted blue pin striped suit, wearing that fragrance, wearing those frameless glasses, and asking her to make her “her” coffee.
Mallika was just 20 years old and had come to Bangalore in search of a job so that she could earn for herself. She also wanted to get out of the trap of her overly conservative parents, so she ran away. She was gated inside her house after her school would get over. She had left a letter at her mother’s desk, when she ran away saying that she would send her money. She never did. She had started working at Mira’s only a few days after she arrived in Bangalore.
Because of her upbringing she was unable to develop any sort of feelings for anyone. She didn’t know if it was right or wrong to have feelings for another girl. The more she thought about it, the more she knew that she was in love with Mira. She loved the feeling, she started to wonder how perfect her life would be if Mira was into her. She had been living with her for almost 2 years, and Mira had never brought anyone home.
She was just sitting in the living room, lost in her thoughts when suddenly the clock stuck 12. She snapped out of her daydream, she remembered that Mira told her that she would be back early today. Suddenly she was overwhelmed with excitement. She quickly finished with all of her work and ran up to her room.
She violently dug through her wardrobe to look for the skimpiest outfit she could find. She came across an old Salvaar Kameez that she would wear on special occasions when she was about 16. “Perfect” she thought. She quickly put it on, it was slightly tight for her, as she had correctly assumed. She admired herself in the mirror, it was tight enough for a little of her cleavage to show and not make her uncomfortable. She smiled at herself, and was about to leave when she looked at the mirror again. She looked at her tightly tied Juda; she had always made it before coming down to the house. She pulled out the large hairpin that she used everyday, and her thick jet-black hair fell to her waist. She then went down and waited for Mira to come back home.
Mira had said that she would come back early, she clearly remembered her saying it. It was now almost 8 P.M. The anticipation was killing her. She wanted Mira to see her like this. Another hour past and Mira still wasn’t back. Mallika slowly passed out on the maroon sofa that faced the front door. She was fast asleep when she awoke to a violent knocking on the door. She sprang up and did know what to do, she ran to the bathroom in Mira’s room to fix her hair.
“MALLIKAAA” shouted Mira from outside the door. Mallika sprinted from the bathroom to the front door, stood for another 10 seconds to catch her breath. She wanted it to be perfect. Then, she opened the door….
“WHERE THE FUUuu…” Mira began to shout at her, but then she noticed Mallika’s appearance. There was at least a minute of pause; Mira took in what Mallika had on, she could even smell her perfume. Mira’s friend Armaan stood next to her wondering what was happening. Mallika was in equal amount of shock to see a boy in the house after almost 2 years. Mallika ran up the stairs, tears rolling down her cheeks as she climbed. She was devasted.
“Im really sorry about that, that’s my maid, she a little weird” Apologized Mira, thinking of what shitty luck she had.
“Ummm that, was your maid?” having seen a pretty Keralite girl open the door and then run after seeing the two of them.
“Anyways, thanks for dropping me home. Bye” said Mira.
Arrival
Shooter
Chapter 1
Prithvi stood on his wooden porch at 5 AM in the morning. A cigarette in one hand and his freshly ground coffee in the other. He watched as the torrential downpour filled the Himalyan valley that was visible from his house. The sun was rising over the valley; it was a sight from a fairytale almost. Even though it was probably the most beautiful thing any human could see, he was unfazed. Something else was troubling his mind. He wasn’t being able to sleep lately. He finished his cigarette and went back inside, he sat down in front of his rustic concrete fireplace. He rubbed his forehead; he was having a severe headache as well. He was in pain.
Prithvi Raj Anand came from a well to do aristocratic family. The family had one member in almost every sector of the economy, writers, actors, businessmen and soldiers. He was raised in a culturally rich environment, filled with refined literature, art and music. When he was a teenager, he was infatuated by the idea of money. Although it was always around him in abundance, he didn’t earn it; it was simply there for him. He hated it, he wanted to be a self made man. He wanted to stand up on his own feet. One thing Prithvi had was determination, at the mere age of 17 he decided that he would become a banker by the age of 27, work till 45, and then retire and start doing what he really loved, writing. He loved to read and write, but as this blind determination grew; it slowly engulfed his whole life, without him knowing it. He was heading Standard Chartered in India, and a day before his 45th birthday, he quit his job and ran away into the depths of the Himalayas, like he had always imagined. He hadn’t written a word in years, except for the formal letters he would write to his various board members occasionally. It all became a part of his work.
Now he sat in front of his fireplace wondering where he went wrong. His eyes fell upon the half written novel that he had started writing after moving to Bhimtal. He had been struggling with for the past 4 years. He knew it was bullshit. He picked it up, and opened up on a random page, he began to read:
“Yashoda picked up the flowers from her doorstep, she opened the card. It was from him………”
He couldn’t believe that he had written this, his writing when he was a teenager were leagues ahead of this crap. He realized what had gone wrong, but he didn’t know what to do about it. He had forgotten how to write, he drowned himself into his work, and when he resurfaced into reality. That part of him was already dead. Tears rolled down his eyes, he had killed himself.
He got angry; he started to violently tear the book, cursing loudly at himself. The pieces of his novel were now spread out over his living room. His half naked girlfriend came running out in surprise.
“What happened baby?” she asked, in her soft voice.
Even she meant nothing to him, she was some random model who he had been dating for a while now. He looked at her, it only fueled his anger. “I couldn’t even find true love,” he thought to himself. More tears started to run down his face, and fall from his chin.
“SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU DUMB BITCH” He bawled.
She burst into tears and locked herself into the bedroom. He lost control over himself. He started to feel that he had destroyed himself mentally already. He was just a hollow man walking. “I can’t be here anymore,” he thought to himself. He went into his storeroom, trying to locate the silver briefcase, which contained his hunting gun. He couldn’t find it. He started to throw everything around. He was losing his mind. When he left the storeroom, he suddenly saw Ramesh, his handyman with the rifle aimed at him. He stopped, lifted his hands into the air.
His heart stopped, Ramesh pulled the trigger.
*CLICK*
It wasn’t loaded. Prithvi fell to his knees. Ramesh propped the gun against the wall and walked towards him. He helped him up, and got him some water.
“Your typewriter is in the study,” said Ramesh.
Chapter 2
The wheels of fortune were turning; it had been almost a year after the incident in Prithvi’s home in Bhimtal. He had since given that land to his handyman, Ramesh. He believed that Ramesh had saved his life. He was forever indebted to Ramesh, Prithvi’s whole life changed after looking at death straight in the face.
Prithvi was now working for the National Geographic Traveller magazine. He was working as a travel journalist. When he was in the country he would spend most of his time in Delhi with his family who he had pushed away in his money driven way of life. He still regrets having wasted all of those years, working under the noses of some of the most capitalistic brain dead people in the world. But he was at peace now, he loved his job, it required him to travel an average of once a month. The magazine would cover all of the expenses, which he did offer to pay for himself. In fact when he had joined the company in hopes that he could work for them without any pay, was only looking for a reason to travel. This was his calling.
He was sitting in the front yard of a South Africa-based heart surgeon’s house. Edward Dundee was one of the most inspiring men he had ever met. At one point he was the only heart surgeon in South Africa, providing heart surgery to the masses of poor people, for next to nothing. He was worshipped for the countless number of lives he had saved in and around Sabie, a small town near the east coast of South Africa. But now he had no work, there had been a substantial amount of development in South Africa, and now there were numerous numbers of doctors in the country. He was not living the life that he wanted to. Even though he is still worshipped, since he did the operations for almost next to nothing he had a very small amount of savings. He had his family in the UK, his wife and daughter. He hadn’t seen them for over 35 years.
They sat in his front yard while drinking the tea that he had made for the two of them. South Africa was truly a beautiful space, as we sat in his yard the sun was setting right in front of us. Over the South African horizon that mostly consisted of a lake, shrubbery and birds.
“Beautiful isn’t it?” commented Edward. Prithvi nodded in agreement.
“So I have called the Jeep, it will be here in about an hour” Said Edward.
“That sounds good, where will we be eating?” Prithvi asked.
“So here is what the plan is, you me and my driver are going to go up to my house in the jungle. We’re going to spend a week there, so we will probably hunt for some wild boar that we can then roast. They are absolutely delicious, trust me”
Edward recited in his intense British accent. It was a little bit strange that he still had it.
The Jeep had arrived and they had been in the house for more than half an hour now. It wasn’t what Prithvi had expected, he had expected a house, but this was a tree house. It was pretty high as well, there was a ladder that they had to go up by, and a separate hand operated elevator for luggage. It was also much bigger than what Prithvi had imagined, he had imagined a small little Jungle shack. But the tree house was extremely spacious. It had 3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, a kitchen, and a dining room complete with a dining table that could seat 6 people. Prithvi was fascinated by the structure. He couldn’t believe how strong and sturdy it was, Edward entered the living room where Prithvi was admiring the house.
“She holds our water too!” Edward showed off.
“How in the world did you build this thing?” Prithvi asked in complete bewilderment.
“It took me about 6 years in total, to plan it, design it and then make it” Said Edwards.
“Wow” said Prithvi
All of them had unpacked, and it was about 7 in the evening. It was dark. It hit Prithvi how much sense a tree house made, you’re out of reach from all of the predators and its also brilliant for hunting. Edward had his rifle glued to his eye.
“I’ve got one” as soon as he said that, Prithvi’s ears were deafened due to the gunshot. All the birds flew away and there was an extremely loud and horrid screeching sound. Edward shot again, and then there was silence.