[Highest Rank - 34]
An insomniac writer, looking for a new story, crosses paths with a mysterious girl who engages him in an infamous serial murder case, and brings him to a point where he begins to question his own Sanity.
Title:...
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24 Dhiwan Road
Chapter 2 Red Fort Corpses
~ ~ ~
'Don't forget to bring grapes and tomatoes. You forgot yesterday, I'd have to call Raju and you know how loudmouth he is.'
'Amma, you could have reminded me. I totally forgot to bring your fruits.'
'Remind you how? Should I write letters?'
'Not letters, old lady. Texts. You can text me. Use a phone.'
I knew Amma would never use a phone, no matter how hard I try to convince her. Amma, Sharada Devi (age 86), didn't just allow me to stay at her home but also filled the space of my family. Delhi could be a hard place to find a suitable home if you are not filthy rich.
I was not poor but I wasn't a prince either. I came to Delhi with limited money and I got robbed. Call it my good upbringing that I once helped this old lady on the road, as some stupid biker bashed his good for nothing bike in her. She wasn't really injured but she fell on the road.
I helped her a bit, asked her address, called a taxi, and dropped her home. I helped her with first Aid and climbing those awful stairs. She was talking in Gujarati all the time, angrily and embarrassed about the accident, but I couldn't help noticing that she had an interesting apartment. I guessed that she lived alone.
She laughed when I told her I don't understand Gujrati. She probably read my face or something, but to my surprise, she asked me, 'Do you need a place to live?', and I just nodded.
She never asked me for any rent or money. She just took me. It's rare but it happened. None of my friends have faith in this story. They think I live in some stinky One bedroom PG in Laxminagar.
'I can't use those things, weird scary things, I am afraid-' She spoke in a dull tone, '-fraid of them!'
I reminded myself again, the old lady is scared of any kind of technical equipment. She doesn't even use an alarm clock or watch TV.
'Yeah sure. Don't worry. I'll bring everything that you asked.' I thought it would be best to tell her, '-and I'll be getting my salary this week, so no rent excuses, I promise I'll pay!'
'I don't want your money, Son! I just want my grapes.' She smiled at me. These were the moments when I couldn't help but wish to be her real son. She would be an amazing mother. Not like my mother. She was such a cruel lady. I can't blame her. Life treated her miserably and she reflected her wrath back to us. I doubt if she had any heart left for love or caring. She is just counting days. Sometimes I am worried and sometimes I just don't care. The city, as wild as Delhi, does that to you. Destroys your soul. Eats you slowly.
