Chapter 1: The Stranger Guest

"Come and face my wrath of vengeance, show me what you got."

I stormed like a bloodthirsty huntsman.

"Shhh! Tonight it's gonna be me ... kicking your ass all over again" Sanket said in a bark.

"Mind your language or I am going to kick both of you! " A vicious command flared from kitchen."Foolish video games, useless idiot box are spoiling kids." It was Mom.

"Aren't you gonna sit in front the same idiot box weeping over your even more foolish sans-Bhahu drama, mom?" I argued. For some reason, Mom used to hate video games at around 8 pm. No need to mention, It was time for her favourite serial and I was the one forced to sacrifice nine times out of ten.

"Shut up." she yelled again."Turn it off."

"Last game." I interjected as all my nerves were occupied in a critical warfare with sanket, my 10 year old neighbour, who lived across the street and whenever he used to come by to ask me help in his 5th standard Mathematics we sank into video games instead. My family was newly moved in the neighbourhood and sanket was my only outlet as a friend.

"Never raise your voice in front of your Mother."Sanket said. "You should learn from me, Vinay."

I paused the game, glaring at him."Last night I heard you louder than your Mom, buddy, how came that?"

"She was beating me with a broomstick, what do you expect." he said throwing a tantrum at me.

"Why did she hit you?"

"Well," he said childishly. "I brought a street dog inside my house."

"For such small reason. Not fare." I said over a mock smile.

"No, actually that dog pissed on her carpet." he said innocently and I burst out laughing. "When it comes to beating, my Mom can be very creative. Dad always complain."

"Does she hit your dad too?" I jested.

"Dad strictly warned me about telling anyone, I can't tell you." he said. I had to bite my cheek to keep from laughing.

We'd reached into the final stage of the game; I was intensely poured into the contest and many glorious moments later, there came a darker one. Suddenly, mom came in, wiping her hands and in something what looked like an impulse, she pulled the tv plug out of the switchboard. The screen went black and so did my winning hopes.

"Get away from that idiot box." she shouted, finger outstretched, pointing away from our ancient television set.

My mouth fell open in agony. "What the hell?" I gave a sharp squeal, howling in pain, hands drove up automatically.

Mom's pasty face went brick red, eyes glinted.

"Silence! I will not be spoken to like that!" said Mom, trembling with rage."Move!"

The way she looked at me send shivers down my spine; I shrieked and shuffled away.

"You go home Sanket. Play time is over." she said bitterly.

Sanket nodded as he always does in front of my mom and smirked at me "I am still unbeaten." Sanket walked out before Mom could shoot another word.

"Shame on you Vinay! You're supposed to show a sense of responsibility now you've come of age. Playing with a 5th standard kid?" she snapped, turning her machine gun on me."You are engineering student. Behave as such."

"He is no ordinary kid mom." I said, giving a little whimper of protest. "He always surpass me in all games. I had one chance of fightback- Thank you for screwing up it up."

"For god sake focus on studies Vinay, can't you see, your father is breaking his back to educate you. Are you going get a good job by playing video games?" she grunted.

I grabbed first book from bookshelf; Faking a look of sudden concentration, made a gesture like a priest glancing at bible.

If somebody said,

'You can't choose where you come in this world, yet you can choose where to go.',

SOMEBODY LIED.

I never found it applicable for middle class society in India. They are helplessly laden with enormous burdens of hopes and responsibilities. First to school ... then college ... hunt for job ... thats what ninety nine point nine percent of them prefer to do. Jobless morons do business. Those who skip colleges becomes politicians or goons. And who dodge schools becomes sadhus. Remainders throw their burden away and chase their dreams. A tiny fraction of whom actually find there bread. Rest merge themselves back in the chain.

It wasn't my fault, I born as a lower-middle class. Neither was my moms; She belonged to a Brahmin family. Very differently, Dad was raised in an orphanage. My maternal grandfather was against their marriage and so was his whole ancestry. According to them, Inter-cast marriage was a severe crime and must be punished without pity. They abandoned my parents; Didn't even bother to meet me, ever. Mom never spoke how much she missed them. When Dad's not around, she used to cry sometimes looking at her childhood pictures.

My childhood wasn't confined to any single town. It followed dad's job which kept migrating, place to place. Almost an year ago, Dad got a job as handyman in a shipping company of Mumbai. Wasn't very good, still had a better pay. So we came to the city, which never seize to surprise. Deep blue sea splashing over the land of Marvellous skyscrapers, filled with ambitious people and their enormous attitude everything was new to me. Apparently, thought all-time-sweaty armpits prosecute for the humid and maritime weather, Mumbai has always been forgiven by those hundred million stomachs she feeds.

Renting a furnished apartment was at the end of the rainbow for us. Eventually, After a long tiring quest we found a cheap, liveable place in Kurla. They were two small rooms build over a glossary store, facing the street, with a tiny window that hardly let any air and a wooden staircase to climb up and down. People seen it as an one room kitchen block, for us it was an "oasis of calm" in the hook and crook of the metro. Though our lives were rough around the edges, we managed to keep the wolf from the door. And you don't need to be a bookworm to get into engineering this days.

After what seemed like an hour, when I could no longer pretend reading maths problems is interesting, I said slowly "Dinner isn't ready yet?"

"For merely 5 minutes you hold that book, and already hungry?" she scolded.

I felt a twinge of shame. And again, out of Mom's scary insistence chin drooped on to my chest into the book I was holding upside down.

Though I didn't had to wait longer than a minute, until she spoke again in very withdrawing tone, "There's khichdi in cooker, Go and hop."

Who cared what it was; Now I had a reason to avoid books.

"Can't wait to dig in." I said as I jumped on my feet and walked into the kitchen and was dishing myself a mound of khichadi, when the doorbell rang. I peeked out and saw Mom opening the door and it was Dad, late than expected with A STRANGER GUEST.

In a flash, I drew the curtain closed between kitchen and hall to hide the dishevelled kitchen. Then, pulled back the curtain an inch to sneaked through the snip and saw a dark giant man standing in the doorway. His face was almost hidden below wild, tangled beard and unnaturally thick eyebrows. He sat heavily, loading his tremendous weight on our spindly chair, long feet stretched out on the floor. His shirt was tucked tightly in his trouser, showing off his plump belly, immensely hideous. He darted his pale eyes around like a wrathful eagle. His presence set mom's teeth on edge; Neither did I got any good vibe from him.

"Come kamal-bhai, have a seat." Dad said, dragging chair from the corner and next spoke to Mom in a very low whisper,"Bring tea."

Stranger's sharp senses missed none of it.

"No no. I am not here for tea." he refused at once.

Dad glanced at Mom for a moment, who was already staring back at him, frowning slightly and then,

"Just half cup." Dad insisted, sliding another chair to his knees and taking a seat opposite him.

Without a word, Mom bustled inside the kitchen looking extremely agitated with me already there eavesdropping.