Tambaku in Hindi means tobacco.
EPISODE1:
It was a dark and stormy night and the darkness in the alley almost covered the man standing in a coat and hat. In the movies he would easily described as a FBI agent, but for the unusual November rains in this part of the world. The man was covering his face from the blowing wind and shivering, shivering not because of the cold rain and stiff breeze but because he was contemplating over the day’s events.
BANG BANG BANG…
The shrill whistle had signaled the end of a perfect shift, except for his partner who had spoiled it a couple of hours ago. Well he had to teach him a lesson. He knew his co-worker’s route home and had used the company car to cut across town. He was just in time to see his co-worker come out of the medical store. The slow public transport system had helped him. Suddenly he had felt a little dizzy with excitement. He got out of his car and followed his unsuspecting victim. An abandoned building loomed and the unknowing man got a call on his cell phone. It was good that a crow bar was handy. BANG BANG BANG… Too bad for the little girl talking to her father, who was now lying motionless at his feet, the phone in his left palm, weightless. The medicinal syrup bottle had broken in his pocket was making a dirty stain on his mangled body.
The skilled laborer had led a good life but he had to ruin it by going home early, that too without informing the foreman. Served him right, to run off from a job. Who would be answerable to the big boss? Their contractor would not understand that the building was not completed in time due to a sick four year old girl. Muddy and soiled he had left the architect lying there in the lawn. Thankfully it had started to rain. Looking upwards into the falling rain he thought to himself, “I am right, I am always right.” He believed in signs. “Each and everyone should be like me, perfect. Nothing less than perfect is acceptable.”
The man in the dark coat completed his train of thoughts, nodded to himself, finished his cigarette and started his short walk home. He was completely blank about how exactly he had clobbered the poor guy. That rush of adrenaline had clogged his memory. But now he was calm and there was no strain on his muscles whatsoever. Deep down he had a satisfied feeling. All things were going his way and was sure nobody could connect him to the crime. He felt happy he had finished off the wrong doer and had done a favour to his foreman. He would do it again if he got the chance. He definitely wanted to do it again to make the world a perfect place.
As he exited the alleyway, a determined smile was noticeable as the dim light fell on his tobacco stained teeth.
It was a dark and stormy night and the darkness in the alley almost covered the man standing in a coat and hat. In the movies he would easily described as a FBI agent, but for the unusual November rains in this part of the world. The man was covering his face from the blowing wind and shivering, shivering not because of the cold rain and stiff breeze but because he was contemplating over the day’s events.
BANG BANG BANG…
The shrill whistle had signaled the end of a perfect shift, except for his partner who had spoiled it a couple of hours ago. Well he had to teach him a lesson. He knew his co-worker’s route home and had used the company car to cut across town. He was just in time to see his co-worker come out of the medical store. The slow public transport system had helped him. Suddenly he had felt a little dizzy with excitement. He got out of his car and followed his unsuspecting victim. An abandoned building loomed and the unknowing man got a call on his cell phone. It was good that a crow bar was handy. BANG BANG BANG… Too bad for the little girl talking to her father, who was now lying motionless at his feet, the phone in his left palm, weightless. The medicinal syrup bottle had broken in his pocket was making a dirty stain on his mangled body.
The skilled laborer had led a good life but he had to ruin it by going home early, that too without informing the foreman. Served him right, to run off from a job. Who would be answerable to the big boss? Their contractor would not understand that the building was not completed in time due to a sick four year old girl. Muddy and soiled he had left the architect lying there in the lawn. Thankfully it had started to rain. Looking upwards into the falling rain he thought to himself, “I am right, I am always right.” He believed in signs. “Each and everyone should be like me, perfect. Nothing less than perfect is acceptable.”
The man in the dark coat completed his train of thoughts, nodded to himself, finished his cigarette and started his short walk home. He was completely blank about how exactly he had clobbered the poor guy. That rush of adrenaline had clogged his memory. But now he was calm and there was no strain on his muscles whatsoever. Deep down he had a satisfied feeling. All things were going his way and was sure nobody could connect him to the crime. He felt happy he had finished off the wrong doer and had done a favour to his foreman. He would do it again if he got the chance. He definitely wanted to do it again to make the world a perfect place.
As he exited the alleyway, a determined smile was noticeable as the dim light fell on his tobacco stained teeth.