Saturday

A cold-blooded short story



Age: 43
Marital stratus: Not married
Job description: Lawyer
Smoking: NO
Drinking: NO
Food Habits: Vegetarian
... and hence, his bank balance was quite a good amount.
***
He was sitting patiently in the hospital bed, switching channels. Currently it's MTV roadies going on where the contestants are asked to eat fried cockroaches... Interesting.. he thought.
Nah! ... It's boring... Time runs really slow when you have only a few more days to get discharged from the hospital bed.
He looked at his left hand. It was not there.
He wasn't surprised to see an amputated half-hand since he knew clearly about it. In fact, it was he himself who asked the doctor to remove it for him.
A few months ago he presented this request to his doctor. Obviously the doctor was perplexed to hear such a request from a perfectly healthy man to remove his perfectly healthy arm.
Were there any legal formalities? Yes, and that's what it took so long. Otherwise, this would've been over by now. He was so stubborn and continuously talked law as well as money, the doctor had to stay loose with his work ethics, respect for humanity and everything else.
***
He looked at his hand again. Starts perfectly from his shoulders with an abrupt end at the elbow. He thought about the rest of the arm, his palm, his fingers. A few weeks back, he could move all of them. They were perfect...
They're still perfect---he thought.
Perfectly stored in the hospital freezer!
Even that was by his request. His extracted forearm had to be kept in freezer until he is discharged from the hospital.
***
He was in the kitchen when the courier boy rang his doorbell. A flash went through his stomach. The pack is here.
He opened the thermocol box with his one hand, while his half-left-hand danced in the air as if it was the one who was more eager to see what's in the box.
White fumes of sublimed dry ice... He pulled out the frozen plastic bag... his left forearm was perfectly sealed inside.
He kept it on the table to thaw... minutes passed by... he did nothing... but stared at his frozen arm getting thawed until it was soft and watery.
As if he had done that a thousand times in his life, he brought a knife from the kitchen and chopped the hand into little pieces. Tender human flesh, cut in pieces. Added some meat-masala a little turmeric and a pinch of salt and marinated in curd for an hour.
Cooked to perfection, it was tasty..
From that moment onwards, he became a non-vegetarian.
THE
END

12 comments:

  1. sheeesh.... blaaeee... graaaeeee... ppphaaa.....

    jango bijumathewyen... i responded with a cruel smile... then wondered wether he removed the nails or not? i think its high time that we shud think low.. start thinking like make some money, buy a car, marry someone...

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  2. yuck.. yeh kya story hai.. a poora B grade grindhouse stuff...

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  3. hahaha.....kollaam. ya...what did he do with the nails, and the big bones? and only marinated in curd? no fry? and why cut in small pieces? it should have been fried...tandoori style. and just hold it and bite off from it. wow!!! ya...remove the skin but.

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  4. eat the right hand too. so you wont write such stupid stories any more!

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  5. nice !! end was gross!! i was expecting something very interesting :)

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  6. ok why?? no really? why if i may ask?

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  7. very interesting...i like ur writing :)

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  8. i really donno how to express my feelings to have read this blog of yours. :)

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  9. This comment has been removed by the author.

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  10. And the only one left, was the right one ;)

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  11. Hi!! Chanced upon u'r blogs... read almst each one f them.. all f them peppered with clarity of thought and humanitarianism..., but this one perplexes me!! the emotional and mental underpinnings of this post leaves me with some curiosity...
    Could you plz share us the muse behind the story??
    If it was symbolic, plz do unfold it in all its beauty...
    Eagerly waiting for your reply...

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