Return
Swaying lightly back and forth in his armchair, retired officer Steven Turner was giving instructions to his grandchildren about how to receive ‘treats’ from the neighbors. At the same time, how to give a nice – nasty – ‘trick’ to neighbors as well.
‘After ringing the doorbell, hide yourselves away from the door. Then, when he/she opens the door, keep very still, not letting the answerer know about you. Then, ‘jumpscare’ that person suddenly. It’ll scare that person out of his wits!’ He laughed a little when he said this.
It has been twenty minutes they have left – Anna (his granddaughter), Jones (his grandson), Jeremy (his own son), and Stephanie (his daughter-in-law). Mrs.Turner – his wife – had died when Jeremy was only fifteen years of age. So, when the four went out together, Steven felt very alone all of a sudden – as if he was the only one living on that street.
Picking up an old album book (Summer of ’47 – Winter of ’51), he flipped through its pages, and as he did so, he felt he was going down a memory lane of his past. Yes, here it was – their trip to Paris, Romania; his photo in military uniform back in India; a photo of that guy Nehru giving his ‘Tryst of Destiny’, and then…
His hand and eyes remained motionless over one photo. It was the picture of the hanging of a prisoner. He checked the description, where it was written:
‘HANGING OF JAHAR KAISER
ON THE 31ST DAY OF OCTOBER, 1942’
He didn’t know why, but he thought that this photo had something behind it. What it was he couldn’t remember, but there something occurred before it…… however, he felt proud, because here was an example of his deadly skill – issuing the hanging of a prisoner. How many had he done till now? Seventy-five? Maybe..
His thoughts got interrupted by the loud knocking of the door. He got surprised. They have finished their trick-or-treating so quickly? They would normally remain outside till nine o’clock on Halloween night. However, upon opening the door, he saw only one person standing over there.
It was a man. He wore a black coat, and had sharp features. He introduced himself in a light, cheery voice, ‘Hello there! My name is Jay Caterson. I and my family just settled on this street, two weeks ago. My family’s out trick-or-treating, so I thought… by the way, you would not mind if I stayed over here for a while? You know for a little chit-chat…
‘No, not at all! Do come in.’, replied Steven, who was very warm towards strangers.
Putting his coat aside – on a chair – he sat down on the maroon-colored sofa as directed by Steven, while he sat down on his favorite ebony armchair.
‘So, Mr.Caterson, what do you do for a living?’
‘Who, me? I am actually now searching for a job over here. I used to work at a car company, but that didn’t suit me for so long. So..’
For some moments, there was silence.
Jay then said, ‘You know, Mr.Turner, I wanted to tell you four interesting stories. I had heard them a long time ago, but such were the stories, that it left a deep impression in my mind. So, if you like…’
Steven looked at the luminous hands of the clock, which indicated the time as 6 p.m. Three hours were still left for his family to come back. Besides, some company would actually help him too. After the death of his wife, he always felt….
‘Go on. I am all ears.’
He began his first story:
‘About thirty years ago, I was a freelance photographer, which was my first hobby. I travelled to India in mid-October of 1942, to capture some moments of this beautiful country. I was very lucky, for I arrived at the time when the famous festival – ‘Durga Puja’ was going on, and it was over here, I witnessed a grotesque incident.’
He paused for a while. Steven felt his insides suddenly empty. Why?...
Jay continued:
‘It was in Bagbazar – or so was it called – that I came to as my first ‘pandal’. It was marvelous! First class! The ‘pandal’ was set up so nicely – I was beyond words. The most beautiful part was the goddess ‘Durga’ herself. Literally speaking, I have never seen such a gorgeous goddess ever! I was standing over there, hypnotized by her beauty and snapping shots of it, when suddenly I heard a commotion, over where the ‘pundit’ was performing the necessary rites. I went over there, and what I saw, terrified me.’
‘What was it?’
‘A man was lying over there, with his stomach stabbed by a knife. Apparently, he was going to give his offerings to the goddess, when suddenly someone rushed towards him…. Later, I heard that the man who was killed was the sore enemy of that person.’
Some more moments of silence.
Steven asked, ‘Um, is that the story?’
The man replied – jolting up from his reverie – ‘Hmm? Yes, yes, that is the first story. The next story occurred in a trial. The strange thing about it was that this one is connected to the one you just heard. I was a press photographer at that time.’
‘Where did the trial occur?’, Steven asked.
‘Kolkata High Court.’ Replied Jay, and began his second story:
‘It was the last day of January. From the morning the trial had started. It was based upon this case – last October, a man was murdered in a ‘Puja pandal’. There were two suspects: Ajay Mishra and Jahar Kaiser. The case was one-sided however, with all the evidences found pointing towards Ajay. But, the proof was still not adequate to sentence him. So, the case dragged on for seven months. Then, just as everything was set for Ajay to be sentenced, something happened which turned the whole case altogether.’
‘How?’ Steven asked. His throat had begun to run dry suddenly.
‘You see, the actual murderer was Ajay Mishra, but some person – I don’t know who – had altered the case in such a way, that all fingers pointed to the only person left – Jahar Kaiser. How it all happened no one knows, but one piece of information came into my ears: This Mr.Mishra was a friend of an Anglo-Indian policeman of Calcutta, who was the one I believe, turned the tables – don’t you think, Mr.Turner? Anyway, his sentence was passed, and on the 31st day of October….’
‘Did you by any chance know his name?’, interrupted an uneasy Steven.
‘Some were saying it was Col. P.T., I think. However, when Jahar was hanged, I could feel my eyes welling up with tears, for Jahar…..was the only friend I had.’ Having said this, he picked up a chocolate coin from a nearby bowl and ate it – possibly to hide the tears coming up.
Steven Turner, however, was not showing sympathy for him. He suddenly felt a cold shiver run down his spine. P.T……P.T….. he had heard those initials before… but where…. and why was he shivering all of a sudden? Must be the wind…
‘Well, go on with your third story, Jay.’ said Steven, who – despite all his efforts of not letting him know about his nervousness – said the last three words, stuttering.
‘What happened, Mr.Turner? Are you feeling afraid? C’mon, it’s the season of Halloween! Everyone is meant to be afraid! Anyway, now the third story which I’m about to tell you, did not happen in India, but over here, in Britain.’ and saying that, he began:
‘Sometime in the forties, the incident took place. I worked in a chocolate factory – a taster – that time. However, my father told me to not leave the photography. My father, Joe Caterson, was a stupendously rich person, who was the head of the car company I am working in now.
My father was like a coin – always showed two sides of his behavior. One, he would always generously donated money to orphanages, poorhouses, etc. and he also threw parties whenever something successful happened in his company. But, the second side was completely opposite. He had a terrible habit, which rotted all the good apples (qualities) he had: Gambling, or – as the Indians call it – ‘Juya’. It was for this ‘Juya’ that my father had to die…’ his voice trailed off.
Then, taking a deep breath, he continued:
‘One night, my father was gambling away with his four friends. He called the group ‘Four Pounds’. Every Friday night, at nine o’clock they would sit at Father’s study-room, and gamble and drink away for at least four hours… late into the night…
‘Then? What happened?’, asked Steven, who was shivering not with cold, but a sudden terror.
‘…they were playing as usual, without a care for the whole world. They were so engrossed in their playing, when suddenly that incident happened (as I heard from the other three) – Father suddenly got up from his chair. His eyes were red all of a sudden, and he fell down to the ground, choking out for water. Soon, foam came out of his mouth, and within a moment, Father was no more. I rushed into Father’s room, after hearing a scream – possibly made by Father himself – and got literally paralyzed for a few moments at the shocking scene. I had just came out of reverie, and knelt down hastily beside my father’s body, when suddenly all of the lights went out…. then…
‘Then? Then what happened?’ asked Steven. His heart was beating very much faster than usual.
Jay lifted his head – looking right towards Steven – and answered in a cold voice:
‘Mr.Turner, you have already known the answer for eight years.’
And then, like a lightening flash, some images quickly passed by Steven’s eyes: Yes, here it was, Ajay Mishra, running after stabbing an unknown person at that ‘pandal’; Ajay pleading to his father – he finally knew who P.T. was – Peter Turner to save him; his father secretly bribing a person and forging the documents; his father turning the case by giving evidence on the final day of the trial; Steven himself giving the death sentence of Jahar Kaiser; he being present at the hanging (the same picture that was there in the album book); he secretly placing the cyanide pill in Joe Caterson’s mouth (when he told him too look inside his mouth to see whether there was any inflammation of the gum); he blackmailing the servant (Tom, the name was) to cut the fuse at the appointed time; he then shooting in the darkness….
‘GOD DAMN IT!’’ he shouted. ‘YOU WERE KILLED…NOW YOU ARE…’
‘Dead, right Mr.Turner?’ answered Jay, with a voice colder than ice. He replied, in a voice Steven felt coming from a very far distance:
‘You surprise me, Mr.Turner. Your plan had worked well. The fuse got cut off, plunging everything into darkness. Taking out your revolver – wasn’t it? – you killed everyone off, placed the weapon in my hand, and running away, to call for the police. The police’s assumption would be that: I have killed everyone off thinking that they have conspired together to murder my father, and then I shot myself. You narrowly escaped, and then straight went to the police to inform them about the incident – you worked out the plan very well. Escaped by robbing money from your enemy – I heard it from my father earlier that you were his enemy – you were never seen again. However, that night, you made one mistake – though you opened fire, I managed to escape. I have been waiting for you all this time. But wait! I believe that you know the three stories very well. So, I’m telling you an unknown one – soon to occur: the fourth story.
Steven wanted to run. Steven wanted to take out his derringer – hidden in a drawer beside where was he was sitting. He wanted – by any means – to remove him. But he couldn’t! He felt that he was tied to his seat!
Jay Caterson now got up, and started speaking:
‘I lost two precious stones of my life: my only friend, Jahar Kaiser in 1942, at the hands of a policeman named Peter Turner, and in 1948, I lost my father at the hands of his enemy and the son of that devil – Steven Turner. With vengeance boiling over these thought, the man drove over to his residence, where his enemy lived. The enemy invited him, not knowing who he was - not knowing he was the man who got nearly depressed as the two candles blew out!’
Steven opened his mouth to scream – his skin colour had turned white as a sheet – but no sound came out!
‘The stranger then made him listen to three real-life incidents, in which they were both connected somehow. The enemy is suddenly gripped with terror. The newcomer now gets up, and starts walking towards him – to take his revenge.
‘The man moved closer.’ Jay started walking towards him step by step.
‘Closer……closer….
‘AHHHHHHHHHHH!’ a loud, terrifying scream came out of Steven’s mouth, and he fell down to the ground with a thud, his face evident of terror. His eyes – oh – were open in such a way, that they had seen something terrible than the usual!
Jay just smiled.
‘Suddenly, he screamed and fell out of his chair, and into the ground. He had – I think later it will be revealed – a serious heart attack, which lead to a cardiac arrest, and then – ’
Jay didn’t finish his answer, but gave such laughter, which felt like unearthly for a moment. He went near the old man’s body, and touched the right hand of him. It was cold. Keeping it, he went out into the cold night, and disappeared into the thin mist, which now started to appear….
***
M.Macabre
21.06.2020
Dedicated to : Myself.
Image courtesy: Google Images
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