Out of time

The cantankerous hubbub of people waiting in a queue for their turn to fill their vessels overwhelmed the surroundings. There were some who were cleaning their dishes and others who were washing their clothes. In front, a few women from the neighbourhood were arguing about someone cutting in line. Amidst the noise, clad in a simple faded dhoti, Khem Baaje with his long, wrinkled face walked toward the tap carrying a worn toothbrush with yellow bristles in his hand. He hated coming to the public tap for his daily chores but there was no other option. For the past three days there has been no water in the house he rented. The check valve on the boring pipe had broken; the tanks had all been empty since. The landlord had said it was Baaje’s sole responsibility to fix the pump and he wasn’t going to spend a dime on it. After filling the jug with pint of water he squatted on a nearby rock and started to brush his teeth. 

From the crowd a familiar voice yelled, “Baaje, congratulations! When is the party?”

Baaje’s head turned towards the direction of the yeller. As he had suspected, it was none other than Babu Raja, his next door neighbor.

Spitting foam Baje retorted, “What party?”

“Why, you don’t know? Yesterday’s news....Didn’t you watch TV?”

“My TV’s broken. What’s the news?”

“You are getting promoted. That’s what.” Baburaja said smugly.

“Are you kidding?” Baje spoke with his brows furrowed.

“No, I am not. The government has decreed that all government employees who have been serving in the same post for over fifteen years will be automatically promoted. The ordinance has been signed by the president.”Babu Raja replied with a grin.

Baje couldn’t believe his ears. He had heard similar rumour swirling a few years ago but there had been no such indication lately. He had stopped hoping. But now, suddenly, his heartbeat quickened. A rush of ecstasy as well as doubt over took him; his temples throbbed in the excitement. Babu Raja’s words had come as a shock. Meanwhile, the others in the crowd who had overheard the conversation also joined in and yelled “Congratulations!” Unable to react rationally he got up and rinsed his mouth immediately.

“This better not be a joke. Because if it is then it’s very cruel.”

“Why the hell would I be joking? It’s in today’s newspaper as well,” Babu Raja exclaimed.

Molotov Cocktail

The half moon was lost somewhere in the clouds; the darkness, almost a perfect pitch-black. Three figures, seemingly impatient and speaking to each other in muffled voices, were on one end of an old, derelict bridge.

“What if we got caught? Will we be expelled?” Nare asked, leaning against the railing.

“No one is going to get expelled. Gyane was simply bluffing. He doesn’t have the balls to do something like that. And if he does, we’ll make sure he won’t remain principal for long,” Kaale quipped, as he threw a pebble into the dark waters and listened to the little splash it created.

Reaching inside a bag, Gople spoke with a stoical air, “No one is going to get caught. I have just the thing with me here.” Slowly, he pulled out a pint-sized Coke bottle from his rucksack while Kaale and Nare peered into the darkness. Unlike a typical Cola bottle, the one Gople had just taken out contained a long, kerosene-soaked wick. It had been forced inside through a clumsy little hole in the bottle cap.

“We’re going to hit them with coke bottles?” asked Naresh, quizzically.

“Sshh..!” whispered Gople as he put his forefinger on is lips. “Gentlemen, I give you the Molotov cocktail.”

“What does it do?” Kaale asked.

“It’s a weapon. We light up the wick and hurl the bottle at the bastards’ den, and then, we watch it burn,” said Gople, as his breath reacted with the cold air to disappear in a plume of vapour.