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The End of Honour

October 18, 2014

“I want them both dead. I want to show to everyone in this town that Bhairon Singh Thakur does not spare even his own daughter when it comes to preserving the sacred caste system of our society.” The MLA’s temple throbbed in anger. “Make as many pieces of their body as you want but make sure the faces are recognisable.”

“Jee Malik,” replied Mohan from a respectful distance. He owned the largest meat shop in the town and did not hesitate to butcher human beings occasionally for some extra money.

Next day, Mohan asked his assistant to man the meat shop for a few hours so that he could follow the girl and find out her low-caste lover.

For the first few days of the week, she went to her college and returned home straight. Then on Thursday, after college she took a different route with one of her friends. Mohan followed in quick steps. She entered a house, which seemed to belong to the friend. After two hours, she returned home.

Next day, the same event repeated. Mohan went to keep an eye on the back side of the house but saw no one leaving for an hour. He returned to the front and waited for three more hours on the road. The girl was not seen anywhere.

Mohan had heard that Bhairon Singh’s daughter was no fool. She might have identified Mohan and his purpose. No wonder, Bhairon Singh’s own people had failed to identify the lover till date.

But he also figured out that she somehow used this house to go to places she did not wish others to discover.

He decided to temporarily stop and wait.

After two weeks, Bhairon Singh sent a message that he had acceded to his daughter’s request to stay the night at that friend’s place for joint study and instructed him to use this opportunity well.

That night, Mohan stationed another man at the front gate. At about 11.30 pm, he spotted a familiar figure leaving the house through the back door.

She reached the town park and went inside through an opening in the barbed fence.

Another hooded figure was waiting for her. They hugged each other tightly. The quiet night carried their whispers to Mohan, crouching behind a nearby bush.

“We have to run away tonight or they will kill us both,” the female voice urged.

“Where do we go?” the male voice sounded scared.

“Somewhere very far, may be to another corner of the country. I have brought some money with me.”

The male figure hesitated. “I don’t have…..”

“It does not matter to me.” She held his hand.

Mohan approached them, a meat-chopping knife in his hand. He flexed his fingers and imagined the crispy feel of thirty thousand rupees.

The two figures sensed him and turned around.

The bright full moon bathed all of them in light.

“Baba!” cried the male figure. The silence of the darkness carried his scream far and wide.

This is another of my experiments in confining a story to 500 words – no mean feat since I love long-winded descriptions and character sketches. The idea of the story has been taken from a 55-word fiction of mine appearing here.

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