Categories
Poetry

Dinosaurs Peeping over Prison Walls

 By Saranyan BV

From Public Domain
I don’t have to pinch myself to check if I  am alive   --                                                                                             Together we tread this ochre path in a convoy of mortuary vans.
We have no issues over stopping at the gas stations now and then for refuelling.
Most of us rush to the rest rooms, a wise guy buys sachets of glucose at the counter --orange flavour,
He tucks the stuff into his backpack and settles down in his black van, the sachets come with plastic straws which do not decay.
I button up my trousers and board mine.
The map on dash board shows the route,
The blue line does not show the destination though.
I get this funny feeling the place is pretty close, not more than few months.
It would be a calm place, a camp cot kind of thing,
Or at least a hard-surfaced concrete bench
And a place to wash with tap water.
The needlessness for God is now clear in the glare of evening twilight
Like fish spread on the beach sand of truth.
Fish cannot close eyes, God seem to have made them that way.
There is some kind of curiosity left on arc of their eyes.
It makes me wonder what have I lived for?
I gloat over my prayers, the rituals I performed day in and day out,
The images trail like ocean clouds in the river of blue sky.
My piety seem unreal at this point of time, all my piety
The vans stop at the toll gate following sombre lane discipline,
The wise old man’s van too stops, CO2 from it spews next to mine.
He lifts and shows one of the sachets,
Takes a small sip from it and explains over the window,
“Time and energy is all misspent”, then takes a large sip,
His eyes squint to see where the straw enters the small hole.
I see his Adam’s apple rising and levelling, “Piety is of no use after we pass brother, it always come to that, all things in our life.”

“Belief in afterlife is stupid”, I tell the old man to keep the conversation going.
“I never had a chance to ask dinosaurs how it came into extinction.”
He likes the way I speak with perennial eyes, offers me a sachet through the window and expresses alignment,
“True, the last of the dinosaurs died 65 million years ago. You know if the dinosaur had souls, those too would have died.”
This way he tries to prove souls hang around though eventually they die.
I think he invests in the concept of soul to prolong his own life after death.
His ticketing is done, the van starts ahead.
My soul died at birth, the inevitability of death sticks on the wall
Like residue of the gums left by Bollywood posters,
Snatched and eaten by the city bovines.
My mom told me that the only protein city cows get is from the glue,
She also kept telling that milk of the city cows smell of the wheat adhesive.
Mom is gone and she won’t be watching, all that she has taught too is gone.
It is not about God or religion or even atheism,
It’s about us, the dinosaurs peeping over the prison walls.

Saranyan BV is poet and short-story writer, now based out of Bangalore. He came into the realm of literature by mistake, but he loves being there. His works have been published in many Indian and Asian journals. He loves the works of Raymond Carver.

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PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL

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Categories
Stories

Alvin and the Curious Case of Spoilt Milk

By Anagha Narasimha

The Bangaloreans will mostly remember the spring of 2024 for bringing on only the heat wave. The Garden City’s temperature reached an unprecedented forty-one degrees Celsius (falling just nine short of a half-century. The summer was terrible for Bangaloreans on two counts – the heat wave and the RCB[1] Men’s team drifting further away from their slogan, hashtag ESCN[2]. But, all of it changed and changed suddenly. The pre-monsoon showers finally brought some relief from the heat wave. Although it initially teased everyone with sprinkles (making the entire city seem like a hot dosa pan, from which steam emanates as soon as the chef sprinkles water). The clouds took pity on the poor souls and became generous eventually. Similarly, RCB Men’s fortunes also changed and changed utterly as they stood with a legitimate chance of qualifying for playoffs after six consecutive wins on the trot.  

Amidst the aforementioned cloudy weather, teasing the Bangaloreans, Alvin, a young advocate in a mid-tier law firm, enjoying his long-sought break from the court, finally decided to make himself a coffee from the coffee brewer. All thanks to the summer that preceded, he had forgotten the setting of the coffee brewer and had to rely on the manual. Finally, he found a way to set the brewer to make a cappuccino with 80 ml of milk and 40 ml of coffee. Just when he was about to press start, his senior colleague interrupted: “What the heck are you doing? Can’t you see that the milk is spoilt?” Alvin did not even bother checking the authenticity of the claim by himself as he knew he would not be able to figure it out. He directly took the matter to the only other colleague who happened to be working even during court vacation, albeit cursing her fate.  

Avni, who was buried inside her file, was suddenly brought back to the office by Alvin.

Avni blurted, “Oh good you are here!”

Alvin showed her the container with the milk and Avni realised she made a big blunder by assuming that Alvin’s presence was a good sign.

Alvin confirmed her fear by asking, “Tell me whether it’s spoilt.”

“Spoilt? It has become curd, you idiot, ” retorted Avni, adding, “And here I was… thinking I would take your advice on my cheque bounce case.”

Accepting Avni’s judgment, Alvin proceeded to throw the milk (or curd) into the wastebin and just then… He noticed the empty aseptic tetra-pack milk sachet lying there craving his attention. He carefully picked it up, went straight to Avni and held it in front of her as a matter of fact. Avni had given up on Alvin’s antics and had decided to finish her work and go home.

Avni: “What?”

Alvin: “It was lying in the dustbin.”

Avni: “Ewwww gross. Throw it away.”

Alvin: “You don’t see?”

Avni: “I see trash but I don’t see why it is outside the dustbin!”

Alvin: “The maid clears the bin every morning around ten thirty…”

Avni: “Mhmm. You are the one to tell. Who’s never in office before 11!”

Alvin: “It is nonetheless. It is twelve forty-eight now. And the packet is still in the bin. Which means it was opened after ten thirty.”

Avni: “Mhmm.”

Alvin: “So processed milk, packed in an aseptic tetra-pack, gets spoiled within two hours?”

Avni, finding all the strength within her, dragged herself out of the file she was covered in and yelled, “What do you want me to do now? Sue them? For fifty rupees?”

Alvin: “No!”

Avni: “Yeah right. Let’s add damages too!”

Alvin: “No!”

Avni: “I must prepare for cross-examination in a Section 138 NI Act case. So why don’t you just blurt out whatever it is?”

Alvin: “How did the milk get spoiled?”

Avni: “Really? I’m asking you for a way to rebut the presumption against the accused in a cheque bounce case and you are worried about spoilt milk?”

Alvin: “Well…”

Avni: “You know what they say? Do not cry over ‘spoilt’ milk!”

Alvin: “What?”

Avni: “Forget it.”

Alvin: “You don’t get it. Cause milk can’t get spoiled for no reason. That would change everything. If you let it go then the very fabric of causality will be ruined and once that’s done… Well, it opens the floodgate and anything can happen.”

Avni stared at him with a dismissive look, “All that’s great but some of us are dealing with real-life problems like preventing a person from going to prison. So can we first focus on that?”

Alvin: “Ah, maybe you’re right. What is it now?”

Alvin sat beside her and cleared the long pile of files that were enjoying their summer break.

Avni: “Good! We’re for the accused. The complainant alleges that the accused issued the cheque in discharge of the amount he lent to the accused in cash on January twenty-seventeen, worth sixteen lakhs[3]. Well, the accused says he received no such cash and the complainant is misusing his signed cheques – but the presumption under Section 118 and Section 139 is against the accused, so…”

Avni was startled when she saw Alvin dozing off in the middle of her narration.

Avni: “Oh come on! For crying out loud! I am not narrating some chanda mama[4] story or singing a lullaby.”

Alvin: “Well you know me. I want my afternoon nap. That’s the reason I wanted to have a cup of coffee in the first place.”

Satisfied with his explanation, he laid his head to rest on the cleared table. Avni could not afford that luxury and she went back to her files. Alvin, who was struggling to stay awake, was now struggling to sleep. Coffee was supposed to help him not fall asleep, and now the thought of missing coffee kept him awake.

The entire event ran in flashes while he tried to sleep.

INT. MID-TIER LAW OFFICE – MID-NOON

Nitin, a middle-aged, office clerk, is running around haphazardly stitching a file. He is cursing somebody – “Even on vacations — these people won’t let me even have a cup of coffee in peace. Keep calling again and again, interrupting. Screw them.” 

Alvin makes sure that the coffee beans are filled. Alvin presses the buttons to make the coffee. Nothing is working. Realises it is switched off. Finds the plug and connects it to the switchboard. The tray on which the coffee cup is supposed to be placed is dusty. Searches for a towel nearby, and finds it on the printer. The towel is also dusty. Ends up wiping the tray with tissues…

BLACKOUT

Alvin woke up suddenly, imagining himself to have exclaimed “Eureka”, except, he had done that only in his sleep. Avni felt she was oblivious to the world of Alvin and continued with her day out with the file.

Alvin ran towards the coffee brewer, completely ignoring Avni’s presence. He had reached the coffee brewer by the time he realised his mistake, and returned to the office cabin to drag reluctant Avni with him.

Alvin: “I got it!”

Avni: “There is no way I can escape this is it?”

Alvin: “So why bother?”

Avni: “I’ll listen to your crazy explanation only if you promise to assist me in preparing for the cross.”

Alvin proclaimed, “Done.”

Alvin: “You see the Bean Hopper? It is recently filled.”

Avni: “So?”

Alvin: “The brewer wasn’t even connected to the power source and I had to dust it before connecting. Obviously, everyone’s on vacation and it wasn’t in use so it was dusty.”

Avni: “Can we cut to your big reveal, where my exhaustion takes the form of beating you up?”

Alvin: “If these are dusty, the milk container must also be dirty.”

Avni: “Ewwww and you were making coffee with that?”

Alvin: “Hell no. The milk was already filled, and I saw Nitin running around, cursing the work that he had been asked to do.”

Avni: “Poor Nitin. Just like me.”

Alvin rushed past Avni to the washbasin where the sponge was lying on the washbasin, completely displaced from its actual position.

Alvin: “You see?”

Avni: “What am I supposed to see?”

Alvin: “Nothing is in order. The sponge is over there, the liquid soap isn’t even closed properly, and you can even find the soap smudges on the washbasin.”

Avni: “Don’t wait for me to react. Just get done with it already.”

Alvin: “Nitin came to the office, earphones plugged, listening to some merry song, thinking of starting his day by making a cup of coffee. He brought out a packet of milk, prepared to clean the milk container, and the office telephone rang – vibrations tearing through the melody of the song being played on his earphones.”

Narrating thus, Alvin walked towards the telephone and pressed a button revealing the call logs.

Alvin continued: “Nitin cursed his fate when they assigned work, but thought he could start with it after having his daily cup of coffee. He went back to cleaning the container and then again – as you can see from the call log – multiple calls didn’t let him have the coffee.”

Avni: “He spoilt the milk so that none can have coffee?”

Alvin: Nah! There is no mens rea[5]whatsoever. If that was the case, he would have made sure none would notice. He was constantly disturbed by the calls. He realised he couldn’t have his coffee so decided to clean it and pour the milk so that he could have it as soon as he was done with the work. While he was cleaning the container – you can see there were a few more calls – he hurried, after cleansing the container with the liquid soap, he forgot to soak it in hot water to remove the soap remnants.”

Avni: “How do you know?”

Alvin points at the water dispenser, which was switched off, which further implied that Nitin had no access to hot water.

Alvin: “Nitin, in that state of mind, added milk to the container which had soap remnants.”

Alvin pointed out the lemon on the liquid soap bottle and with a wide grin exclaimed, “…did the job of spoiling the milk”.

Avni: “That’s artificial lemon, you genius. They don’t add actual lemon.”

Alvin: “Yes indeed. What they add to get that lemon flavour is limonene — a colourless liquid aliphatic hydrocarbon classified as a cyclic monoterpene, which is the major component in the volatile oil of citrus fruit peels. That’s how we were faced with the curious case of spoilt milk.”

Avni: “You. Just you. Don’t you dare include me by saying we. Now, if you’re done playing Sherlock Holmes, can we switch to Perry Mason and find a way to rebut the presumption against the accused in our case?”        

Alvin: “Ah, don’t worry about it.”

Avni: “Why? You have a few more spoilt milk puzzles to solve?”

Alvin: “You can disprove the complainant’s testimony.”

Avni: “How? The complainant says he gave a loan worth sixteen lakhs to the accused. The signature is not disputed. There is no way to prove that the complainant hasn’t given sixteen lakhs because the presumption in his favour.”

Alvin: “How much does the complainant claim to have paid?”

Avni: “Sixteen Lakhs.”

Alvin: “Date of payment?”

Avni: “Sometime during January 2017.”

Alvin: “Mode of payment?”

Avni: “Cash. How convenient?”

Alvin: “Denomination?”

Avni: “I don’t know. Five hundreds and thousands?”

Alvin: “There. You have proved him wrong.”

Avni: “How?”

Alvin: “In January 2017, he paid a sum of sixteen lakhs via cash. November 2016, we had demonetisation — five hundred and thousand notes were discontinued. Moreover, he couldn’t have paid more than two lakhs in cash to the accused as per the guidelines that existed. There. You have proved he is lying on oath.”

Avni ran to her chamber to verify the statements – “He says he paid the entire sixteen lakhs at one stretch” – Her facial expression screamed “Eureka”, while Alvin prepared coffee for both of them.

Avni, sipping her coffee, “So when did you realise this loophole?”

Alvin: “As soon as you told me the case.”

Avni: “And why didn’t you tell me?”

Alvin: “You would have gone home and I had to solve the curious case of spoilt milk alone.”

Avni: “One day… You’ll find poison in your coffee and you’ll die without ever knowing how it got there.”

Alvin sounded baffled, “You’re so mean”.

Finally, the rain made up its mind to show mercy on Bangalore by pouring down as they had their coffee in peace.

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[1] Royal Challenger’s Bengaluru, a football team.

[2] Ee Sala Cup Namde translates to ‘This time, the cup is ours’

[3] A lakh is an Indian denomination equal to 100,000

[4] Chanda mama or moon uncle in Hindi… here used in lieu of fairy tale

[5] The intention or knowledge of indulging in a crime constitutes a criminal act.

Anagha Narasimha C N, an advocate by profession, is also a poet and writer. His poems in Kannada and English are published in various online journals and he is actively involved in playwriting and theatre production. 

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PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL

Click here to access the Borderless anthology, Monalisa No Longer Smiles

Click here to access Monalisa No Longer Smiles on Kindle Amazon International