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    Ranveer
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Murder At Lake Mohank - 1. Chapter 1. "Monday is an awful way to spend 1/7th of your life."

"Monday is an awful way to spend 1/7th of your life."

August 10, 2012
Monday
Mid-Night

The water was damn cold. And dark. And gelid. And it was trying to engulf me in a sinister way, I felt. Yet I stood there, stout, steadfast.

Standing waist-deep in the famed waters of the holy Daamodar Kund; with an eerie ambiance, how it always was at this ungodly hour, of absolute desolateness surrounding the natural reservoir located amidst the dense, almost impenetrable jungles and daunting mountains of the Revaat range; I let the unusually cold breeze assault the skin of my torso, that was as of yet above the surface of the water, making the hair on my forearms stand upright.

I looked around. Not out of fear, nor diffidence. I had spent almost all my life here in this region, and the task at hand, I had done it too many times in the past to be apprehensive or uneasy about it. But simply because it was required of me to make sure that I performed it in absolute solitude.

Little red streaks of vermillion on the wide stone steps descending to the Kund, marigold petals scattered on the embankments as well as afloat on the black murky water. Little vestiges of the divine atmosphere that the pond and its visitors enjoyed during the daytime. No eager devotees now, waiting for their turn to take the holy dip, no pilgrims from far away consulting the astrologers under their palm leaf parasols, getting their palms read by saffron clad fortune-tellers, or buying offerings for rituals, no priests holding lit lamps and chanting holy mantras. Just bits of camphor, broken incense sticks, and long extinguished earthen lamps, that could be seen afloat on the surface from time to time; a reminder of the glorious spirituality that was on offer to all onlookers all day long. I could very well picture the bustling scene in my mind. The yearning tones of the Sarangi and rhythmic beats of the Tabla along with chanting of Mantras and tinkling of bells nearby adding to the sacred quality of the place, making it indescribably divine.

 

And here I was now, in absolute silence, except for the swaying of the branches of the nearby trees, and the sound of the cicadas. In fact, even the branches stood mostly still tonight, and the cicadas almost silent.

I could barely discern the outline of the nearest peak, despite the fact that the sky seemed cloudless. It was dark, too dark, even for a no-moon night.

And too cold for the month of August.

I looked past the steps, to the dense grove of trees beyond. One tree in particular stood out, quite distinct from all the rest. I had of course seen it innumerable times in the past, it had become almost a familiar sight. And a strange sight it was. A silhouette. Its branches some thick some thin, totally leafless, inter-twined, ending in the shape of the letter "V", one above the other. When viewed from far, against the background of the starlit sky, it always gave me the impression of hundreds of human arms, raised high above in prayer, in bow., or perhaps screaming for help, to be rescued from a pit of fire where they had been condemned to burn eternally in.

Crossed with myself for having let my mind wander, I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate on the matters at hand. I lowered my palms into the water, then lifted them out again, raising the water in the cup of my palms. I lifted it up all the way, far above my head, as far as my hands could stretch. In my youthful voice, the secret Mantra I chanted, eventually letting the water in my palms, slip out and down onto my head, from where it rushed down my forehead, and dripped from my brows, blurring my vision, when suddenly I opened my eyes wide.

I thought I had just heard a sound, a loud crack, like a branch snapping on the ground, not very far from where I stood.

Of course I knew it well, what that could mean.The possibility of running into a lion, or an encounter with a leopard however slim it might be, was real and ever-present. Of course, I hadnt ever let that fact perturb me anymore than was necessary to survive. Though I knew that I was totally on my own out here, with nothing but my bare hands to defend myself if it came down to that. But I was never the one to let myself get easily swayed. In the 19 years of my existence on this planet, if there had been one quality that I had shown in abundance, it was my ability to face fears. Not just face them, but rein them in, overpower them.

There, I heard it again, a crack, almost as loud as the previous one from the same general direction as those trees.

I squinted my eyes a little, trying to make out whatever I could of the dark landscape. The tops of the tress were easily visible, being at an elevated angle from where I stood, and with a backdrop of the star-lit sky behind them. It was the undergrowth that was dark, thick, ominous.

I thought I could almost see some movement there, but I couldnt be sure. I waited. One minute. Then another. Nothing happened. No new sounds, and even the undergrowth appeared totally still, when I looked at it again with fresh eyes.

I felt a little silly. I completed the ritual with the customary dip in the cold dark water.

After one final gaze towards the jungle, shaking my head a little in dismay, I turned back towards the stone steps. If being in the water was cold, stepping out of it was even worse. I felt a chill run down my spine as I climbed the steps, slowly, deliberately, one by one. I felt the rush of the cold air on my bare body. I made my way up to the top step, near where I had put all my stuff in a neat little heap; took out the towel and started drying myself. I liked the feel of the dry towel on my wet skin. I ran the towel over my forearms, drying the wet hair that had gotten stuck to the skin; I then turned the towel around, and dried my hair and then let the towel rest on the back of my neck. As I started shaking my head, the few final remaining drops of water flew off in the air.

As I stood there, my arms spread out, my eyes closed, letting my body be caressed by the keen breeze that blew in enthusiasm, ruffling my hair, caressing my face, gently holding my hands for a while. For a moment I set my mind free. Free of all rigidity, free of all anxiety, all care. The questions that were never answered. The answers that troubled me, that always left me exasperated. Vague recollections, and indiscernible truths.

For a moment I let my soul forget it all. I soaked in the aura, the silent black night. The tree tops and the mountains. The water and the steps. Standing beneath the starlit-sky in the jungle valley. I felt one with nature. An affection I felt emanating from the landscape, and wrapping me in a blanket of a fond embrace. I felt a relaxation come over my body, every muscle soothed. A feeling of care, comfort and coziness. And inevitably leading to the remembrance of -

A loud piercing shriek I heard. Like a bird cry. Coming from somewhere behind my back, from towards the jungles, and building in intensity. Before I could manage to turn around and see what it could be, I felt something rushing towards me, the rush of air on my hair and past my ears, a sort of whoosh, something flying in real fast. In the same instant that I turned around, I felt something fly past my head. Something small and light, a bird perhaps. A bat may be, I couldnt be sure. I didnt get a chance to look at it properly. I instinctively started turning back around to see what it was, when suddenly I froze.

Barely a distance of about twenty feet from where I stood, to the left, in the middle of the nearest thicket, a pair of bright glowing eyes I saw. They were unlike anything I had ever seen. I sensed they were staring right at me. Intense. Unmoving. Nothing else I could make out, no face, no body, no movement. But there was a real sense of menace in them, I felt.

I should probably be making a mad dash away from those eyes, I knew. But I didnt. I remembered vaguely having been taught that the big cats instinctively chase down any creature that tries to run away. Not that I was convinced at all these were animals eyes. They were just too piercing. I could feel them almost trying to read my mind. Trying to figure out my thoughts. Like how I would react. What I would do next.

Except for the stars, there was no light to speak off, and it for sure didnt seem to be enough light to reflect off. How the hell are those eyes glowing so bright, I wondered but the question was bounced quickly to the back of my mind. It didnt matter for now.

Running off didnt seem like a good option. Manly or unmanly be it, didnt matter. Confronting it, by moving towards the eerie trees was certainly not the brightest thing to do in the current scenario, I knew. So what other options did I have here. Wait? but then, wait for what? Those eyes certainly seemed to mean business, and not something that could be "waited out". They were going nowhere, I was sure.

Everything had come to a standstill it seemed. The leaves, and the branches - paused. The water by the steps - placid. The insects and the birds - inaudible. Like a snapshot, a frozen panorama. Time just stood still.

Finally I decided it was no good standing there like a statue. Without turning my back towards THEM the slightest bit, I started walking away, off to the right, off towards the little road, off towards my bike. Slowly, one step at a time, and without once taking my eyes off THEM, further and further away I moved. I felt glad that whatever or whoever was staring at me, didnt seem to want to pursue me.

Copyright © 2013 Ranveer; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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On 05/25/2013 04:46 PM, Daithi said:
Riding a bike be it manually or motor is bound to be uncomfortable naked lol. Spooky chapter though, especially with the preface.
thanks daithi, good observation :) but perhaps, i might have just picked them up as i began to move away, without taking my eyes off the 'eyes' :).

 

ya riding a bike naked or in ur undies, would be uncomfortable, and a bit embarrassing. but then, it hasnt been specified in the story, what exactly happened immediately after. so it could have been anything :)

 

the truth is, i have done a lot of editing to that particular chapter, chopping and changing stuff, at some point losing the entire chapter, coz of a power failure, having to rewrite it from memory, and so on. it was there, a tiny little paragraph where it was mentioned that i got dressed. but somehow, it got lost. and it slipped out of my mind :)

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