Deep Ties

 RED                                                                 Unsplash It was a day of jubilation for the CBI, and for the police force of the city. Notorious serial killer, Kalia, had finally been nabbed after an exhausting hunt. Kalia, who had murdered eight men over a period of twelve years, had terrorized the entire state. No one knew where he would turn up and since his weapon was an axe, he always left behind a scene covered with lurid streaks of blood. The forensic team would have to wade through rivers of red before they could pick up anything that could serve as a clue. Kalia also seemed to have a warped sense of humour. On the wall above where the body was found, he would draw a crude smiley with the victim’s blood, a sight which made the investigators irate indeed. “It is almost as if he is mocking us, isn’t it?” AJ Sinha, the chief investigator, remarked, his eyebrows raised in disgust. “Yes, Sir, no doubt about that! He thinks he is above us,” his second-in-co

BLACK                                                                  Unsplash She watched, entranced and horrified, as he strode towards his victim cowering in a corner of the room. His face glistened with anticipation as he lifted his knotted whip and brought it down on the back of the terrified man who screamed as the cord tore at his lacerated flesh. As Rukmani watched, tears flowed down her cheeks. Why was Johnny so cruel? Or was he Tony, Zapata, Murugan, Gokulnath… every role he played showed him in a negative light, the arc lights shining on his swarthy face even as he played the villain to the hilt. Besides, he had one fetish that he refused to part with. He wore only black, a colour that made him appear more menacing than ever. Rukmani had seen every movie of his, starting from when he had acted as a young boy accused of outwitting an entire gang of smugglers. It was then that one of his directors fathomed the potential he had to be a villain. “Boy, you have the look

 BROWN                                                                       Unsplash The brown earth drank in the moisture that the monsoons had provided greedily, the first rains of the season. Farmers had been praying for this, as their crops had begun to wilt, but now, at the first drop of deliverance, they had perked up, lifting their heads for succour. Sujata smiled at her husband, Milan. “The Gods have heard our prayers. We will have a good crop this year.” Her careworn eyes were bright again, as a ray of hope had entered her heart. Looking at the tiny dusky babe who lay in the makeshift cradle created from a sari, she smiled. He had brought the rains, and the good luck along with him. On the day he was born, their landlord had summoned Milan. “Milan, you are a good worker. If you are ready to work more, I will increase your wages,” he had announced, clapping the younger man on his shoulder. Milan had winced at the hearty blow, but his heart sang with joy. There was so muc

 INDIGO                                                                        Unsplash The riverbank looked like a patchwork of colours with clothes of various hues drying on the rocks, vivid in places, and faded at others. Gopal, the dhobi, was busy with his latest bundle. His back ached as he bent over, slapping each garment against the smooth rock that he had created as his special niche. As he squeezed the soap water out, he heaved a sigh, looking up at the clear sky. The sun shone down fiercely, and he was grateful for the warmth that drank up the moisture from the clothes he had already washed. Another ten minutes and he would be ready to fold them in a neat bundle so that he could place them in a white sheet to be distributed to various houses. The whites were the problem. They needed to be scrubbed till they were squeaky clean and then immersed in a solution of indigo blue which would enhance their pristine whiteness. Gopal had pitched a clothesline only for the whites and a

  SAFFRON                                                                            Unsplash   The body lay on the ground, covered with a sheet which must have been white at one time. All that could be seen was a portion of the saffron robe worn by the man who now lay motionless, shrouded in silence. The police had managed to locate his family – his wife, his son and daughter – all of whom had seen him three years ago when he had had a fight with his wife and stormed out with a tiny suitcase. Before he left, he had turned to his long-suffering wife. “I never want to see you again!” His voice had been strident, and she had winced, even as she made no effort to stop him. The children, teenaged, ran after him as he walked away. “Where are you going, father?” Achyut had asked, his voice shaky. Preeti, his daughter, whimpered, tears streaming down her face as she pleaded with him in turn. “Please don’t leave us, father. We need you.” He had looked at them, despair in his eyes