PRESENT DAY...
Far near the horizon, the sun is setting. The sky yellowish with a tint of red and orange. Prateek who had been sitting under a Peepal tree, gets up. His feet strangling, heavy feels each of his steps. He makes his way through the narrow streets of the hill, they run endless. Almost all the shops have closed down but Prateek manages to reach a roadside betel shop. His eyes scan the initials and stops on a pack of cigarette. He points his forefinger towards it. Though there was something he wanted to say but the words remained inside him. The shopkeeper hands him the pack. Leaving a hundred rupee note, Prateek walks away. The shopkeeper turns to hand him the change, nothing except a monotonous silence is left behind. Darkness had now engulfed the sky. Prateek looks up, his eyes cannot spot a human life anywhere. Beside him are large stretches of tea bed. Green, which is now in its darkest shade under the moonlit night. He creeps in, lights up a cigarette and lets out a deep puff. His windpipe chokes and he starts coughing relentlessly. Shutting his eyes tightly he takes the rear end of the cigarette to his dry lips for yet another puff.
FOUR MONTHS EARLIER...
The bright luminous rays of the sun enter the room through the lone window with no curtains. An alarm clock on a wooden table loaded with books starts ringing. Prateek is already up, a brush in his mouth. After having a breakfast with four biscuits and a glass of milk he leaves for his long journey. Signs the hostel record book and dials a number from the landline phone at the desk.
"HELLO" a stern voice speaks from the other side.
"Papa, I will be there by the evening."
"Is that a great news to be delivered?" Papa grunts.
Prateek hears some sounds from the other side of the phone. Next on the line is the voice of a lady.
"Beta, beta. Come home. It's been almost a year. Almost a year. I have been preparing your favorite dishes."
Prateek wipes a tear and speaks.
"Amma"
But the line is disconnected by then.
The big clock at the bus terminus shows six. Prateek gets his ticket to Shyamnagar and gets in bus number five. His heart beat resembles the sounds of a drum, his perfect lips bear a smile, which refuses to go, he carries a box of sweets in his hands, all his yearly savings drained for that one box. He takes a seat by a window, imagines his mother hugging him and having a sweet from that box, his sister and father smiling as he offers them the rest. The roar of the engine is heard next and the bus leaves.
SOME TWO HUNDRED KILOMETERS AWAY...
~ Shakuntala, grates carrots in fine pieces. A jar of sugar rests beside her. Time to time she wipes off sweat from her forehead with the rear end of her saree. Her son was coming back after a year. Her heart dying to meet him the very moment. She has been preparing every food item that Prateek likes to have.
"Where is my lighter?" A hoarse voice reaches Shakuntala's ear.
Leaving all her work behind, she runs and enters a bedroom to her right. Parmesh, a tall sturdy man in his early fifties stands before her. He has graying hair and thick moustache, holds a cigarette in his hand.
"Where is my lighter? You bitch!" He screams and clutches Shakuntala's hair.
The pain is unbearable to her but Shakuntala somehow lifts the lighter from the table in front of her and hands it to Parmesh. The man grunts and pushes her out of the room. Shakuntala loses her balance and lands on the floor her hands bleed and white floor catches a glimpse of red.
"What is this that you are preparing?" Sheetal, a girl in her late teens complains with a frown. Shakuntala keeps mum and mixes the finely grated carrots with milk in a bowl.
"I will make whatever you say for you." Shakuntala replies.
"If that is so then no other food item today." Sheetal points towards the bowl. The carrots had now drowned in the milk.
Shakuntala keeps working silently.
Sheetal snatches the bowl away from her and sets it free. With a terrible sound the bowl lands on the floor and all its contents gets spilled over. Parmesh reappears again; he sets out a big smoke on Shakutanla's face from his mouth. Sheetal giggles.
"Papa see what mummy did." Sheetal points to the floor.
"Is a king coming home today? Is there a festival?" Parmesh’s hoarse voice and then dead silence.
"How dare you waste my money for that rogue? Let him come today. I will kick him out from the door." Red was the color of his eyes now.
"No please." Shakuntala joins her hands.
Parmesh slaps her, "You silly bitch."
Sheetal hands her dad a small drum and Parmesh empties its contents on Shakuntala. Shakuntala weeps.
"Let me see my son at least for once."
SNAP! a matchstick lightens and Shakuntala is laden with fire.~
Prateek looks very tired after the long day. His legs hurt. Back on the bus he offered an old lady his seat and had been standing continuously for four long hours. But his heart is still as fresh, he longs to hug his mother. Taking hurried steps Prateek reaches his house. The same house where he had spent his childhood. Where he had seen his father die while he was still in school and had welcomed his step father and sister a year later. He longed to see them, his mother.
The door is ajar and opens with a push. Prateek drops the box of sweet from his hand. He finds Parmesh and Sheetal enjoying Shakuntala's death. A tear now divides Prateek's face. He leaves the house in his step father's and sister's unawareness.
The sun has gone down, Prateek is running. He keeps going on and on, keeps weeping until blood oozes out from his mouth and he faints.
ONE DAY EARLIER...
Almost four months have passed; Prateek has grown thinner than he was. Every day he curses his so called dad and his sister. Every day he weeps. He had even walked up to the police station to lodge a complaint against them, his mother's death had been announced an accident, now his life was nothing more than a revenge.
Prateek is in Shyamnagar. No one recognizes him with his grown beard and his covers.
The milkman knocks the door, Sheetal opens. As the milkman is about to leave Prateek sneaks in his steps swift enough. Sheetal places the milk container at the kitchen and turns back to find Prateek before her. Two streaks of blood flow out from her thighs. The knife in Prateek's hand speaks red. Sheetal falls down on the spot, terrorized she screams and Parmesh runs into the kitchen. Prateek swiftly bends and stabs his legs too but the huge man manages to escape. Parmesh's eyes fall on Prateek’s. Red like they were when he had killed Shakuntala. Prateek hits him on his head with a utensil. Parmesh faints. Sheetal screams. Prateek then lifts up a container quite familiar to Sheetal. He empties the contents on Parmesh and Sheetal. Sheetal begs for her life. Prateek lights up a matchstick. Sheetal's screams die out slowly.
Out, Prateek climbs up a hill and sleeps soundly on the grass after a long long time. His heart quiet by now.
PRESENT DAY...
Prateek lights the last cigarette of the pack and leaves out a deep puff. His eyes keep running. Lying in the tea bed and looking at the moonlight sky he remembers those winter nights when his mother used to narrate him a story and he would keep glancing at the moon through the window.
"One day when I won't be around, I will be there." Shakuntala would point to a star.
Prateek tries to find that one star today but his eyes blacken and everything turns bleak.
