The Perils of Book Keeping

Ravi stood in front of the door and carefully observed the three wobbly locks, hanging smugly from the latches. He bent down and unlocked them with the chunky keys given to him by the landlord. Ravi pushed the door with gusto but it opened a little too easily, leaving him misbalanced for a moment. He pulled his trolley bag inside and glanced around the flat. It was a modest 1 BHK strewn with old wooden furniture coated in a layer of dust. The smell in the air was, thankfully, a dry and sterile one. This would be Ravi’s home for the next 7 months.

He took a tour of the flat, poking and gliding his fingers on random stuff. This examination did not help him to figure out a way to convert the place into a cosy inviting home. He sat down on the nearest chair and dialled quickly the number of the person he missed the most, his wife.

Ravi was a government employee who loved the predictability of his existence. He used to live with his wife and son in a small city close to his office. Through their fifteen years of marriage he and his wife, Kavita had always maintained a reasonably low fight index and Ravi was a complacent man who never longed for a bigger life in a bigger city and was grateful for what life had given him. However this did not last forever and one fine day he was transferred to the small, nondescript town of Lohapur, far away from his home.

Ravi tried to frame the haphazard ideas in his head into sentences the moment he heard Kavita’s phone ring.

“Hello…have you reached the flat?”

“Yes…I’m sitting inside. Nice place…a bit too small though.”

“Good…the smaller, the easier to maintain.”

Kavita had clearly instructed Ravi to not employ a maid.

“Listen…the place looks kind of…unclean. Also the kitchen equipment looks dicey to me. I was thinking…”

“You can’t hire a maid. ”

“How will I do it all by myself?”

“Then find a man servant!”

“Oh please…like men are readily available to cook and clean.”

“Look, a middle aged man, living alone, can’t hire a maid.”

“You think I’d try to sleep with the maid?!”

 “It’s not about you. I trust you. But some maids make wrong allegations and try to extract money. Why...”

Kavita’s voice trailed off as the phone battery died. Ravi sighed and walked over to his trolley bag to dig out the charger. Then setting the phone to charge from an electrical outlet, he went out to explore the town.

The soil was moist from a quick downpour of fine rain and it exuded a refreshing fragrance. Ravi saw a lone man, turning on the street lamps one by one. For some reason it reminded him of his 4^th grade text book and he smiled in nostalgia. And as Ravi’s legs traced out the lane in front, his mind went over various disconnected trains of thought. He finally reached an eatery at the end of the road. It was a small one, devoid of any show or frill and two long bare benches were laid out paired with two narrow tables.

As soon as Ravi sat down, a boy came out with a kettle and offered him tea. Ravi nodded in assent, pleased with the prompt hospitality. The boy poured him out a cup, placed two locally made cookies in a small plate and ran back inside to attend to other chores. Ravi sipped his tea and observed the three people managing the shop together. Man, woman and son were working busily; the structure made him think of his own family. He imagined his wife back in home, sitting down with their son at their 4-seater dining table. Kavita must be helping their child with his lessons while she chopped vegetables for dinner. Ravi longed badly to be in the same room, huddled up on his favourite couch, silently reading a book or taking a nap.

“What’ll you have brother? Evening snack or dinner?” The man was now standing in front of Ravi. He was rather thin, dressed in a grey T shirt and a pair of faded shorts.

“Dinner, I’ll have a full meal,” Ravi said quickly.

The man went back in and within a few minutes his wife came out and placed in front of Ravi a plate of hot rotis, curry, salad and pakodas.

Ravi’s empty tummy rumbled in joy to see the spread and he happily began to eat. The man stood close to him and stared for some time.

“Brother seems to be new here,” he commented finally.  

“I got transferred to this town recently…I rented out a place down this lane,” Ravi pointed towards his place with his hand.

 “Do you need a helper at home? My wife works in several homes in this area.”

Ravi hesitated for a moment.

“Erm…if I don’t manage to get transferred back to my home town in a few months, my wife and my kid will join me here. In that case we’ll hire her.”

“I see. Let me know if you need anything.”

“I’m not much of a cook, the food here is really good. At what times can I eat here?” said Ravi.

“Any time you want. Tell me your exact address, my son will deliver the food to your door-step.”

The additional chore of doing the dishes scared Ravi and he declined the offer quickly.

“I’ll come here to eat. It’s a small walk that I like.”

Ravi washed his hands in the tap water and walked over to the bamboo counter to pay his bill.

“The washerman lives right round the corner,” the man said as he counted the money.

“Thank you…you got me sorted in one sitting,” replied Ravi with a smile.

He walked back leisurely to his flat. Once inside he was dismayed to find that his phone was still dead. The charging point turned out to be faulty. Ravi pushed the charger into the socket and beat it several times to get the electricity finally flowing. He sighed and went to bed thinking of his home. And then his sweet thoughts slowly merged into beautifully weird dreams as he fell into a deep sleep.

In the morning Ravi was up earlier than usual. As he looked out from the parted curtains of his new bedroom, he saw the most glorious view of the rising sun. The orange round ball of luminosity made the natural greenery look alive and enchanted. All of a sudden the sun reminded Ravi of the orange-yellow yolk of a boiled duck egg.

Realizing his urgent need for breakfast, Ravi got himself cleaned and ready very fast. He opened his door to go out when he found a newspaper lying on the floor.

He tucked the newspaper in his armpit as he locked his door.  And then he started to read news as he proceeded towards the eatery.

 It was while munching on hot toast and omelette that Ravi first realized that the newspaper in his hands was not quite correct. Argentina cannot lose the second league match already as it was scheduled a week away. A look at the date gave him a shock. The date printed was 7 days ahead in future. Ravi folded the newspaper promptly and put it back in his office bag. A quick look around ensured him that no one was interested in him or his paper and he happily went back to his half eaten breakfast.

At office Ravi was careful to not take out his paper. What if someone wanted to borrow it from him? He certainly did not want to be the new rude guy who refuses to share morning news.

The hours flew by lazily till 11 o’clock announced the entry of his new boss. Ravi gave him exactly 15 minutes to settle down in his cabin and then he followed him inside.

Ravi asked without much concealment if an early transfer back to his home town was feasible. Despite the generous display of Ravi’s even white teeth, the boss was not impressed. He said a curt no and redirected him back to a pile of pending work. Ravi somehow managed to bear the infinite boredom that the next hours brought to him before he could rush home to be with the precious paper. For a week Ravi kept his secret to himself and made a mental note of the key events the newspapers brought to him every day.

On the seventh day evening Ravi prayed against Argentina for the first time in his life as they played against Croatia. As soon as the match ended, Ravi stood up alone in standing ovation inside his flat. Croatia had won with a 3-0 score line. The veracity of his time travelling newspaper was now authenticated.

In the next few days Ravi’s popularity shot up in office. He got involved in all possible discussions and made interesting comments and observations about everything. And his judgement turned out to be remarkably accurate every single time.

His son, a supporter of Germany, jeered at him regularly for Argentina’s sorry plight.

 “Pride goes before fall,” Ravi simply said, barely able to control his chuckle as he gazed at the ousted German faces in the newspaper held in his hands.

At work Ravi’s colleagues started to look up to him and came up to him for random advice and tips. His conversations with his wife became more fun. His wife mistook his enthusiasm as romance stemming from the separation and was giddy with joy. Ravi was enjoying the spree as well. For the first time in life he had actual topics to talk about. He finally felt big enough to fill Kavita’s need for long conversations.

Things were going great in Ravi’s life till the day when he read about the death of Lully Sahane in an accident. Lully was an upcoming television actress who hailed from Ravi’s home town. He sat numb for a few minutes and read the news again. He nervously went to office wondering what he should do. At office work pressure and casual banter took his mind was off the matter for a while.

But soon in the evening, back in his apartment, he was uneasy and restless. Finally on the day of the accident he placed a frantic call to his wife.

“Kavita can you get the phone number of Lully Sahane?”

“Lully Sahane? The actress? How? Why?”

“Nothing really.”

“No I can’t! Why will she give me her number? And why do you need it?”

 “A colleague wanted to talk to her,” Ravi lied.

“What? Did you brag about her and us being from the same town? Come out clean to your new friend instead of trying to get her phone number like a creepy stalker!” Kavita laughed.

Ravi sighed as the call disconnected.

The next day passed in a tense stupor for Ravi. He grimaced every time the phone rang but no bad news about the actress came and he went to bed with a clear conscience. It was in the early hours of the next day that his wife called him to inform him of Lully’s demise.

“Just two days back we were discussing her. Can you imagine that she was just hours away from a grisly accident?”

It was the first time since getting the futuristic newspapers that Ravi felt depressed. His shoulders drooped, his eyes sunk and his gaze appeared vacant in the course of the next days. And despite the changes being overtly visible, it was his wife who noted the shift and not his colleagues.

After a lot of coaxing Ravi told his wife about the weird series of events.

“I…I feel responsible for her death,” Ravi cried into the phone.

As always sharing the burden with his wife made him feel lighter. They continued to discuss news and bit by bit Kavita managed to counsel her husband out of the guilt.

“Avoid serious news. Confine yourself to the sports section only. And relay back to me what you read...I still feel that you might be imagining things.”

Following his wife’s counsel helped Ravi a lot. He started to joke again with his co workers, consoled his son for Germany’s ouster and hinted to his irate boss about Brazil surpassing Argentina in the coming weeks. Pleased with the prediction, the boss began to show the first signs of leniency towards Ravi. It seemed that life was back on track for Ravi.

However in the next morning, before Ravi could turn the newspaper over to the sports pages his attention was caught by the bloodied body displayed all over the front page.

The MLA of a neighbouring district had been murdered in Rajiv Gandhi assassination style. Ravi sunk into the details of the case, forgetting all about his wife’s warning. It was a terrorist attack at a public rally. The top investigators had some leads and were working on the case.

Ravi looked up and pursed his lips as his mind raced through probable plans. The coming few days will bring more details about the terrorist…enough for him to stop the incident from actually happening. He got up and went out for a smoke.

For one long hour Ravi walked around the desolate town restlessly. MLA Thakur was different from the usual corrupt lot. He was working hard to bring about changes; he certainly did not deserve an untimely death. When Ravi returned to his flat, he had made up his mind. His phone rang out suddenly, startling him for a second. It was Kavita.

“I just had a great idea Ravi...we’re going to be rich!”

“How?” Ravi scratched his head and slumped back on the bed.

 “Why don’t you buy the 7 day lottery tickets? Note the winning number and buy that ticket.”

“What if it’s sold out?”

“Aim to buy the whole list of winners…all can’t be sold out.”

Ravi sat up and cracked his knuckles as he mulled over the plan. A lottery win will immediately ease the financial pressure on him. It could mean a smoother life with more free time. And in a minute’s span, a thousand dreams took shape in Ravi’s mind. “The woman sure knows how to pull her husband out of malaise”, Ravi thought cheekily.

Thus on the following day Ravi purchased 3 winning lottery tickets from the local store. And he pretended from then on to be losing his powers at office. He claimed that Croatia would get the World Cup and pushed into casual conversations, a few more erroneous predictions. He had 7 days to convince them that he had no magical powers whatsoever.

Although Ravi’s waking hours were a lot more cheerful now, his sleep was heavily disturbed. MLA Thakur came in his dreams every night. And in his dreams he seemed to be a very close friend of Ravi’s. One day he had coffee with Ravi, another day they walked together along the narrow lane of Ravi’s childhood home. With each dream MLA Thakur’s impending death became a bigger concern for Ravi. And finally on the day before Thakur was to be killed, he took a half day leave and ran back to his place. He made methodical google searches trying to reach MLA Thakur. It was 10:35 pm when he finally got the number of MLA Thakur’s manager. Ravi went out to the nearest public telephone booth and dialled the number.

“MLA Thakur will be attacked tomorrow at the rally. Cancel the rally if you want him alive.”

Thus offloading the weight off his chest Ravi thumped down the phone and sprinted back towards his flat. He looked over his shoulders many times to ensure that he was not being followed. The surreptitious demeanour made him look exactly like a thief.

The rally was not cancelled much to Ravi’s disappointment. He could not bear to watch the live telecast and turned off the television. With an infinite sense of doom he crawled into a warm blanket and stayed huddled up on the bed, staring out of the window with a pair of worry lined eyes.

A couple of times his phone rang but he ignored it. The rings pierced the silence of his room but he was oblivious to it all. Finally in the evening he dragged himself up and decided to go out to have a bite.

He found a crowd discussing the terror attack on the MLA. A knot of pain curled up in his chest as Ravi inched towards the group.

To his utter disbelief he heard that MLA Thakur was not injured and the terrorist had been nabbed by armed commandos. His face lit up with the biggest of the smiles and he spontaneously leapt up in air. A few people turned and gave him odd stares but Ravi did not care. For the first time in life he felt the joy of being a superhero.

That night Ravi went to bed jubilant. His dreams were about the upcoming lottery results and he slept really well. He knew he would wake up to get rich.

In the morning Ravi rushed to the door as soon as he was up and grabbed the newspaper promptly. He ran back into the bedroom and put on his glasses to savour the beautiful piece of lucky news.

He froze with his first look at the newspaper. His own face stared back at him from the first page.

“Top terror-suspect dies a bizarre death in the sleepy town of Lohapur. ”

A throbbing pain rose in his head as he pored over the details of his own death. It turned out that the death was disclosed to the media a week after he was killed which meant that Ravi had already stepped into the last day of his life.

Ravi ran up to his window and peeped out hastily. Rows of police cars were surrounding the humble flat. Ravi felt hot tears streaming down his face as he ran to his mobile phone connected to the charger. His wife needed to know the truth before death came grabbing at him.

But the moment the call to Kavita got connected, an inordinate amount of electrical charge passed into the phone and caused a severe blast.

Ravi died in that second, confused about what had actually killed him.

Far away in a brightly lit hall Chitra was updating the log. Gupta walked in casually and tapped her on the shoulder.

“Still working, eh?”

“Balancing the sheets dear. There was one debit less on this side.”

“Ouch what’d you do now?”

“Done actually. Just made another random debit and balanced it anyway!”

“You’re evil!” Gupta laughed out aloud.

They closed the office and walked out together.

“Aren’t you worried about getting caught?”

“So many unscheduled deaths happen every year, Big Boss hasn't noticed a single mistake ever...why would He find out now?”

Chitra winked confidently at Gupta. Their job of book keeping was done for the day.