Saturday, April 29, 2006

mysterious death of one Ms.Biondi


Posted by Picasa death doesn't have a pretty face...

I saw her for the first time while I was climbing up the stairs. She was rushing downstairs. She paused at my sight, hesitated for a moment, and brushed past me. She had been up to something – something unpleasant; and she had been spotted. The expression of guilt and anguish on her face had given her away mercilessly. Neither the perpetual innocent look nor the setting sun could prevent me from identifying those expressions clearly. What has she done now? Upstairs, the look in Simon’s eyes told me nothing different. Something had happened, and it definitely wasn’t pleasant. And she was a part of it, or maybe even the cause.

She had moved in with us a couple of weeks ago. To move in with 4 men, none of whom would qualify as the pope even if they were the last four on earth, was a bold move. I had tried to befriend her. Somehow she seemed to send me a secret message that nobody had ever tried to, and nobody ever will succeed in befriending her. I gave up my quest. Time and a vast number of failed attempts had nearly convinced me that she was only a dream, a work of my semi-conscious mind. Whether it was the enormity of the apartment or the diminutiveness of my urge, I do not know.

The stench was unmistakable. I was just back from work and ran to the washbasin as soon as the air in the room started torturing my nostrils. Nearly suffocating myself to death with a hankie, I ran upstairs. There was no sign of her. I did not find her in the bathroom either. The creaking cupboard door grabbed my attention. As I neared the door, I could feel myself trembling. Then I saw it. A hand. There was the body too. Simon. I whispered under my breath. I knelt beside her. She looked peaceful even in death. There were stains of dry blood all over her head and her neck. I did not know what to do. I looked at her closed eyes once again and turned back.

What had she done to deserve it? Did it have anything to do with ‘that look’ on her face? What had she done on the occasion of our first meeting that had resulted in something as brutal as her death? What had she done to disturb Simon? Simon was a very patient man. To invoke this sort of inhuman behavior in him would have taken more than a mere act of disturbance. He had never been fond of women; in fact he had avoided them throughout his life. So any advances of that sort was improbable. Was it an act of mere sadism? No, definitely not if it was the Simon I have known for nearly 20yrs. He was glued to his computer most of the time to even notice her petite figure. Alcohol though has changed many a man to an animal. There was an empty bottle of rum next to Simon’s bed. My suspicion grew stronger.

The bell rang thrice to free from a quagmire of thoughts. I sighed and opened the door. It was Simon. Before I could ask him anything, he spoke. “I did it. I did it. I hold none of you responsible for this. I will clean up my mess and bear the consequences if any. Is that fine?” I was stunned at the indifference. He had just taken a life and he had no regrets or at least his face showed none. “But…why Simon? What did she do to you?” - I asked after a pause. I followed him quietly as he led me upstairs. He opened the door and pointed towards the corner.

There it was. Yes. Now I knew what had enraged him. After all, he had spent sleepless nights and hungry days for it. “What else could I do? Tell me. You know what that meant to me. Did we not give her shelter? Did we not give her food? Did we not give her company? Did we ever harm her? The why?” He nearly roared.

I was speechless. He was right. I knew what it meant to him, for it was a part of his life. It was a mess. Well, the murder was justified. We had given her everything. She had no right to chew up the Creative 7.1 speakers that he had purchased just last month. Especially, when her digestive system had no clue as to what to do with all the plastic she was swallowing. I went down and switched on the television. Simon laid the body of Ms.Biondi in a large plastic bag and walked towards the municipality trash bin nearby…

Is it just me or can anyone else still smell a rat?

1 comment:

happy said...

When I hear word "mysterious", I imagine something wonderful and exciting. But mysterious death has nothing common with that:(