Tragic Thrillers

  • 04 Feb - 10 Feb, 2023
  • Salaar Laghari
  • Fiction

Umer stopped reading the book on his right side and started the story on his left:

Someone once told me that our choices define us who we are. Well, if that’s the case then I must tell you that I’m not a good person. I’m a bad person because I have made really bad choices in my life. My bad choices have made me what I am today. A distressed, frustrated and regretful person.

Most people learn from their mistakes. I wish that I could be one of them. They are afraid of what might happen again. But I am not. I always risk the same choices and cry afterwards. Life is way too complicated. But I’m glad that I’m not the only one who is saying that.

Obsession is the worst thing that can happen to a man. But what’s worse is when you’re trying to get rid of that particular obsession. If it were easy, the ratio of suicidal and drug addicts would have been a lot less. The colour of obsession is red.

My story is all about obsession. But not just any other obsession. My obsession was something very different. Something very unusual. People are left blue after they are defeated or when they are depressed. But I was left blue after what I’ve experienced. I hear voices knowing that they are not real. Hallucinations occur to schizophrenics. I’m not one of those people and yet I hear such stuff.

They ask me, are you alone? I reply, I don’t know. But I always keep telling myself that life would have been a lot easier if we could rewind time backwards. A lot of people crave for that. It is useless I know to argue over that.

But eventually learning from our mistakes. Is that a talent or human nature? I mean why is it that everyone is not capable of that? If nobody repeats the same mistakes that they made before then our society can be an example of perfection. But that isn’t the case. I know plenty of people besides me who don’t just commit blundering mistakes but they also repeat them. And yet, they are smiling and living life very easily. Now, you have to make your choice. This is the worst thing that I get to hear from myself. I have two options and one choice. Time is as usual short and the choice is very big to make. During moments like these, instead of making a decision, I don’t select my option giving it a thought. I just do it.

**********

It was a full moon’s night. I was standing at the balcony of my apartment. As I look inside the apartment through the window, I see a vacant place. No furniture, none at all. I ask myself why are you afraid of going inside when there’s nothing inside that can harm me. The answer that I get is:

You are dangerous. You are the one who can be harmful to others.

Wait a minute, is that right? Well, as far as what has happened before, I am a danger to the society.

As I look at the moon, I feel someone looking at me. Nobody really knows about what I did. And the moon here is looking at me as if he knows about all my crimes.

I walk around in the balcony holding my hair. The sweat on my face makes it way down my throat and then inside my shirt. My chest is completely wet. All I want is freedom. Freedom from my own self. I want to undo all my actions. Just like a computer. Click the button and undo everything.

Crime is one thing but sin, sin is worse. You may be relieved from law but your conscience does not spare you. I ask myself why. Why did I do this? Was I forced? Maybe yes, maybe no. Did I do this as means of any compensation for my right? No, not at all.

Questions are infinite but the answers are none. All I need to know right now is that am I capable of doing such a thing again. If yes, then a person like me has no right to live.

You must be wondering what my crime is. Well, I hate to tell you this but I’m a murderer. I have murdered someone, against whom I had no reason at all. A stranger died out of my hands. Can I ever forgive myself for that?

Standing at the balcony will not resolve anything. Either I should jump off the balcony and save anyone from dying out of my hands. Or I should go back inside and see the red colour again.

No, that instrument is just a reminder of what I am. It is not just any musical instrument but a reflection of my true image. It has made me what I am today. Yes, there’s no logic involved and no logical explanation whatsoever. Because when your story involves obsession then it doesn’t need any logic to support it.

Now my body begins to shiver. Not because of cold. But because of basic need. Just like eating and sleeping are our basic needs. Likewise music has become my body’s need. From desire to want. And then from want to basic need.

**********

Here I was at some cheap hotel. Sitting on a chair, holding my right hand through the other hand. As I let go off my hand, my hand shakes. From hand to elbow, it shakes beyond my control. I try to stop it but I can’t. The left one also shakes but comparatively less. I then place my hands between my thighs and try to stop feeling them. The more I try to stop feeling them, the more my body agonizes.

Now as I’m standing against the wall, I rest my head against my both hands behind. My hands still restless, not willing to cooperate. I hit them with my head more than twenty times but the pain only increases. This uneasy desire of music is killing me every second. With such pain, every second is as long as an hour. You’d believe me if you’d been in my place.

Every two hours later, I’m standing under the shower. The cold water from the shower is the only thing that eases my pain. While under the shower, I open my mouth at times and allow maximum water to enter inside. A lot of water goes inside through my nose and through my mouth. The only reason I do this is because I want to swallow death. Yes death is what I want.

After more than twenty minutes of bath, I am shivering because of cold. I sit at some corner inside the toilet and keep on shivering for minutes.

Moments later back inside the room, I am feeling badly desperate. My ears they are desperate to hear what they had been hearing for several days. My fingers are dying to hold the instrument. Just touching it for once would be enough. But things are so beyond my control that I can’t even exhale or inhale my breath.

This night is the kind of night I’ve been spending for four days. The lights are usually off. Today I turned on the lights. The room that I am living in does not have what I am looking for. I walked towards the bed looking at the walls. I can nowhere find it.

The only questions that my mind is putting up are.

Where is it? Where can I find it? Can’t I just have a view of its single dot? And then I ask, why aren’t my questions being answered?

A frame is hanging. I break its glass with my knuckles. My right hand begins to bleed. Oh God, now I finally feel relieved. I see blood. I see what I’ve been craving for. My thirst is gone now and I am smiling after a long time again.

**********

Let me start from several weeks earlier. I had just landed in Karachi from Lahore. But my luggage hadn’t arrived. And they informed me that it might take more than a week. I was helpless here and I couldn’t do anything about it.

I had my wallet and my cell phone only. I could easily afford a hotel room to live for several days. I however booked a taxi from the airport and left for my friend’s home.

I had only one friend in Karachi. He was actually expecting me to meet him. Now I needed a place to stay and only he could help me find one. But I would never stay with him no matter how bad he would insist. That’s because I am his criminal. And he does not know about it.

Wajeeh is a trustworthy friend of mine and our past does not really matter anymore. I’m hoping that I shall receive a warm welcome from him, but let’s see.

“Hey Sohail! How are you?” he exclaims excitedly as he sees me outside his gate.

I smiled and shook hands with him. I entered inside his house as he asked me to. I held my forehead while entering inside as I was kind of guilty about our past. As I looked at him while he was shutting the door and locking it, I realised how innocent he was. He had no idea about whom he was supporting at the moment. When I can’t forgive myself for what I did to him then how shall he be able to? Which is why I think it’s best to leave that matter untouched.

Minutes later, we were seated together in his room. Like two friends talking and having their usual conversation. After I told him what I learned from the airport regarding my luggage, he spoke:

“Oh, so that’s your case.”

“Yes.”

“That’s not so good. So what’s your plan?”

“I don’t know; I’ll find a place to stay or anything.”

“Oh, come on don’t say that,” Wajeeh said. “You don’t need to stay any place else when you can…”

“…No no Wajeeh, I can’t,”

I interrupted putting up my finger, “I appreciate your offer, I really do but I can manage a hotel of my own.”

“Look Sohail, if you’ll refuse me today then you’ll have to choose between our friendship or your pride.”

“Oh, come on it has nothing to do with my pride. I have plenty of money I can afford a place. I don’t want to trouble you.”

“Sohail don’t, please. Just don’t go there. I don’t want this conversation.”

“Okay, if you insist, then I also have a condition.”

“Okay, what is it?” Wajeeh asked curiously.

“I won’t stay more than a day.”

“Oh, come on what kind of a condition is that?”

“No Wajeeh, please try and understand. I just can’t stay long.”

“Okay, well. Stay for a day then I’ll convince you afterwards.”

“Let’s see…”

I was given a room and after an hour I was lying on a bed inside my room.

I suddenly remembered the first time my wife asked me:

How are you?

We weren’t even married at that time. It was more than five years ago I guess. However, I didn’t want to think about it so I changed my position and tried to think of something else. Then, I remembered the face of an old man who had just got a heart attack.

I sat up immediately as this was also one of the painful and horrifying memories of my past. I just held my forehead and uttered:

Oh God! How can I get rid of these memories?

I stand up and walk a little. I stop by the window and look outside the window. The world outside seems so peaceful to me. I only wish my soul could be the same. I need something to sooth my soul.

**********

During dinner time, Wajeeh and I were seated together in his room.

I asked him:

“Do you know any place where I can stay for long? I mean alone place where I can spend some time by myself.”

“Well, yes, there is one but there’s an issue.”

“What?”

“That place is not a good place. It is an apartment just like mine but it dangerous.”

“Dangerous?” I got curious.

“Whoever goes and stays at that place for a while becomes a… he becomes a killer.”

“A killer? What the hell are you saying?”

“The truth!”

It seemed serious and interesting. He continued:

“I know those people personally, who have stayed there for a while and have become cold blooded murderers. And they were normal and innocent citizens before that.”

“I don’t know, I don’t think

I can do anything like that.

Just give me the address.

I’ll stay there if it’s affordable and comfortable for privacy.”

“So, you’re saying that you’re willing to become a murderer?”

to be continued...

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