A Game Of Shame And Revenge

Make way for our next entry to the ‘And then…’ contest. Just reminding, I am not disclosing the author‘s name now so that we can have a fair voting. The write-ups would be posted in the order I receive them… Here are the rules & hints and here is The Scene…


He didn’t seem to notice her staring at him. His balding head, grizzly beard… gave her goose bumps. He was an enigma. Despite every criticism he had faced in the last couple of weeks, he had remained stolid and unabashed. If nothing else, she admired his superior, almost brazen self-confidence.

But how could she forget the taunts she had to face – because of him? He had shamed her. Beyond words could explain. Everywhere she went, people associated her with him. They called ‘her’ and ‘her people’ a ‘cheat’. The real reason for her taking this so-called vacation was to escape the taunts from her colleagues and friends.

‘This is my chance!’ she muttered under her breath, with a determination she never thought she was capable of. ‘I will have my revenge’.

Liz gave flashed her best smile. He didn’t notice. She jerked slightly, spilling water over herself. He noticed. She then took off her jacket with one quick sensuous movement. Beneath, she was wearing a lacy black vest.

This time, the man put his magazine down, and gave her a small grin. ‘Water spilled huh?’ he asked in a thick Indian accent. Liz smiled sheepishly, eyeing the little document holder tucked away in his seat pocket.

‘Hi, I’m Liza..’ she introduced herself with a firm handshake.

Hellow’ he replied, not letting go of her palm.

‘So what takes you to Sydney?’ she cooed.

‘You see, I have to build rapport.. we can have relationships, you know’ he winked.

Liz shuddered inwardly, but nodded. ‘I see. I’m so cold! Would you mind lending me your jacket?’ she asked sweetly.

‘Of course, anything for a beautiful girl like you!’, the man replied, and gallantly left to fetch his jacket from the overhead locker. Liz used the minute, to do exactly what she had planned.

By the time he had returned to his seat, she had covered herself with a small blanket, and pretended to have fallen asleep. The man frowned upon the opportunity lost! He looked for his magazine, but it was gone.

The next couple of hours were spent in silence, interrupted by the drone of the airplane, snores from the man, and the quiet ripping of some papers beneath Liz’s blanket.

When the plane landed, Liz beamed upon the man ‘It was a pleasure meeting you, good-bye’. He smiled half-heartedly. She sniggered, and quickly walked away to find a spot from where she could hide and watch the fun.

At the immigration gates, the uniformed authorities surrounded him. He seemed to be searching for something. He rummaged through every pocket, but couldn’t find what he was looking for, so desperately.

‘Sir, you have to produce your passport!’ the staff shouted impatiently.

‘You know who the hell I am?’ the man replied arrogantly.

‘We would if you could show us your passport’

Liz giggled.

The authorities looked at each other, and decided to take him in! ‘Bring the cuffs’, one of the security officers threatened. The man shook his head miserably. He looked wild and angry. ‘I’ll destroy you!’In a moment, his expression changed to Sad and Hurt. ‘Please believe me!’ And finally, helpless.

‘Take him to the interrogation cell!’ The authorities led him away unceremoniously.

Liz strode out of the airport, laughing under her breath:

‘You shamed me, you a*shole. You brought dishonour to me and my country. Made us a bl**dy laughing stock. Everywhere I go, people snigger at how corrupt, inefficient and shameless we are! Now you deserve this! May you rot in prison, you slimeb*all!’ she laughed to herself, and hailed a cab.

She stopped at a dustbin, to drop the shredded pieces of bluish-greyish paper. The passport of Suresh Kalmadi, chief (dis)organizer of the Common Wealth Games 2010.

PURELY A WORK OF FICTION. THOUGH MUCH PRAYER GOES INTO IT, HOPING THIS COMES TRUE ONE DAY!

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Hate to love you

Here’s the next entry to the ‘And then…’ contest. Just reminding, I am not disclosing the author‘s name now so that we can have a fair voting. The write-ups would be posted in the order I receive them… Here are the rules & hints and here is The Scene…

That face that had haunted her all these years…an image from an old worn-out photograph that she had carried around in her heart. All these years, she had been waiting for yet dreading this day. She still didn’t know if she’d ever muster up the courage to say those words to him. Her eyes welled up with tears without any explanation. Dabbing her eyes with a tissue she quickly regained her composure and risked a glance again on pretext of looking for the air-hostess.

Those dark eyes, that square jaw and the kind smile were still the same. Yes, a few wrinkles here and there but there was no mistake-it was him. She had imagined this scene in her teenage years, rehearsed what she would say and what would happen. She had spent hours in front of the mirror in nervous excitement practicing and rephrasing what she would say when she met him. She’d hated every part of her that wanted to love him but couldn’t help it. The Kathak recitals, the piano lessons, the basketball matches-all came back to her.

Her monologue froze midway when he suddenly looked up at her. She felt like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar and smiled at him blushing furiously and he gave her a confused smile back.  Was it her imagination or was there a fleeting hint of recognition on his face? But he went back to his Autocar and she leaned back and took a large swig of water and took a deep breath. It was now or never.

She turned again. “Pardon me if I’m wrong but are you Mr. Bryan D’Souza?”

He looked up blinking and removed his headphones and said, “I’m sorry I did not hear you. Could you repeat the question?”

“Mr. Bryan D’Souza?”

“I think you mistook me for someone else. I’m Shrey.”

Sorry! I’m Liz. You looked a lot like an uncle of mine! I’m really sorry!”

“That’s okay. So I look that old eh?” he grinned, “It’s always nice to meet a fellow Indian here. You live in Sydney too?”

“No, I’m on vacation. I moved to Hong Kong two years back, before that I was in Delhi. “

“Hmmmmm…How I miss that city! The clean air and the fresh food stifle me in Sydney! I last went to Delhi five years back. A week there was like oxygen! I missed the chaat, the yum kababs and the DTC buses!” he remarked smiling.

And they talked – about the weather, Sydney, India, Indian food, cars, traffic in Delhi, her job, her crummy boss (he used to have one too!), music, movies…it went on and on! They got on like a house on fire! He loved Audi too and shared her opinion that Federer was a pain in the ass for winning all the time! It was like they had been destined to meet. As the flight prepared to land there was a knot in her stomach. The words remained unsaid. She had said everything but what she had actually wanted to.

Sydney arrived and as he waved and walked out of the airport, she stood there looking at him. The words came out in a whisper, “Hi dad.”

They came too late. Genetic maybe.

That face that had haunted her all these years…an image from an old worn-out photograph that she had carried around in her heart. All these years, she had been waiting for yet dreading this day. She still didn’t know if she’d ever muster up the courage to say those words to him. Her eyes welled up with tears without any explanation. Dabbing her eyes with a tissue she quickly regained her composure and risked a glance again on pretext of looking for the air-hostess.



Those dark eyes, that square jaw and the kind smile were still the same. Yes, a few wrinkles here and there but there was no mistake-it was him. She had imagined this scene in her teenage years, rehearsed what she would say and what would happen. She had spent hours in front of the mirror in nervous excitement practicing and rephrasing what she would say when she met him. She’d hated every part of her that wanted to love him but couldn’t help it. The Kathak recitals, the piano lessons, the basketball matches-all came back to her.



Her monologue froze midway when he suddenly looked up at her. She felt like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar and smiled at him blushing furiously and he gave her a confused smile back.  Was it her imagination or was there a fleeting hint of recognition on his face? But he went back to his Autocar and she leaned back and took a large swig of water and took a deep breath. It was now or never.



She turned again. “Pardon me if I’m wrong but are you Mr. Bryan D’Souza?”



He looked up blinking and removed his headphones and said, “I’m sorry I did not hear you. Could you repeat the question?”



“Mr. Bryan D’Souza?”



“I think you mistook me for someone else. I’m Shrey.”



Sorry! I’m Liz. You looked a lot like an uncle of mine! I’m really sorry!”



“That’s okay. So I look that old eh?” he grinned, “It’s always nice to meet a fellow Indian here. You live in Sydney too?”



“No, I’m on vacation. I moved to Hong Kong two years back, before that I was in Delhi. “



“Hmmmmm…How I miss that city! The clean air and the fresh food stifle me in Sydney! I last went to Delhi five years back. A week there was like oxygen! I missed the chaat, the yum kababs and the DTC buses!” he remarked smiling.



And they talked – about the weather, Sydney, India, Indian food, cars, traffic in Delhi, her job, her crummy boss (he used to have one too!), music, movies…it went on and on! They got on like a house on fire! He loved Audi too and shared her opinion that Federer was a pain in the ass for winning all the time! It was like they had been destined to meet. As the flight prepared to land there was a knot in her stomach. The words remained unsaid. She had said everything but what she had actually wanted to.

Sydney arrived and as he waved and walked out of the airport, she stood there looking at him. The words came out in a whisper, “Hi dad. “



They came too late. Genetic maybe.