The wait for the end... Part 1

This is one of my innumerable attempts towards writing a short story. I hope at least this time I keep it short.

This is the story of a goon. Yes, a criminal. His name is Kashif. Kashif was a henchman, an extortionist, a kidnapper. He could be whatever you wanted, as long as you paid him hefty sums of money. He had a small one-room shanty in Dharavi. He lived there and operated his business also from there itself.

Kashif began his 'career' at the age of 10. His first consignment was given by a well established don of Mumbai. He was assigned to kill an upcoming builder who had refused to pay 'protection money'. Kashif's mother was admitted in the hospital and was fighting against death. The doctor refused to treat her until the previous dues were cleared. Kashif found no other option and took up the consignment and killed the builder. The don paid Kashif much more than promised and even offered to treat his mother in a plush hospital. But as fate would have it, by the time Kashif took the money and reached to rescue his mother, she was already declared dead. Kashif shed not a single tear. In fact like a good son, he performed all the last rites well. The next day, the hospital doctor who had refused to treat Kashif's mother was found dead in his 3 BHK appartment in townside Mumbai.

Kashif slowly and gradually progressed from a small-time henchman to a serial killer, then a kidnapper. From here on, there was no looking back for him. He was on a money making spree. By the age of 25, his name was counted among the big dons of Mumbai. He was very pleased with the kind of hold he had, but somehow was never satisfied. In a fews years, he began loan-sharking. Biggies from all over India came to him. He did their work and they paid him any random amount that he quoted. But unlike the other dons, he was never into human trafficking or drugs. He was a misogynist and kept away from women.

Come May 1998, there was a big event in the city. Some sort of an International Summit. All the Bollywood actors, company CEOs etc had gather at the 7 star hotel's banquet hall. Kashif was invited by one of the top builder's to threaten a certain government official. Kashif readily came. He met most known faces and some unknown. A waiter came to serve Kashif some drinks. Kashif turned back to pick a wine glass and that is when he saw her. She was dressed in blue denim and a white top, hair tussled in a black clip. Nothing eye catching about her. She kept clicking pictures, moving about the hall like she knew it so well. All the while she kept smiling.

Kashif noticed that his eyes kept following her. He tried to engage himself in talks but all his attempts were futile. He knew there was something about her that made him gaze shamelessly.

11.00 pm and the hall was getting empty. People started leaving for their rooms. Some were sloshed and had to be accompanied. Kashif called his driver and ordered him to get the car. The driver promptly drove the car to the porch. Kashif was all set to take the lift when he saw her walk down the flight of stairs. Unaware of his action, he followed her down the stairs. She was trying to miserably fit her camera into the hold-all and tie her hair, all at the same time. And then something from her bag fell off. Kashif quickened his steps and picked it up. He gave it to her, without even giving a glance towards what it was. He kept looking at her. She said "Thank you Sir". Kashif fumbled for words and somehow managed to say, "Koi baat nahin... tik hai". She bobbed about the stairs like a small kid, unaware of the mysterious pair of eyes staring at her.

Kashif saw her leave the main entrance of the plush hotel. He was about to follow her when his driver called out "Gaadi tayar hain Sahab". Kashif gave the driver a frosty nose look and angrily got into the back seat. The car left the premises and off onto the silent roads of Marine Drive. After covering about 50 feet, Kashif almost screeched "Rukooo". The driver hastily pulled the car. Kashif saw her walking down the streets alone. He stepped out and walked up to her. "Suniye! Kya main aap ko lift de sakta hun?". She jumped with fright. "Ji...Ji...Ji nahin". He again said "Suniye raat ka samay hai, aap ne yun akele nahi jana chaiye". She yelled back "Get lost you nerd. How dare you come and talk to me!". Kashif almost laughed. He said very calmly "Hanji, gaaliyan bhi de dijiye magar abh yahan se chaliye." She looked into his eyes for the first time and saw an assurance. "Well, I'm sorry dude! Can you give me a lift to Bandra?". Kashif only smiled and said "Haan haan Bandra Bandra".

They stepped into his car. She sat as far as possible. Kashif avoided looking at her. He had to put in a lot of effort. She kept looking at her mobile as if waiting for a call. He asked her "Hum call kar den? Aap ko thodi shaanti tho milegi warna aap iss phone ko dekhte rahengi aur hum aap ko." She smiled back. A big smile. And blushed. She put her hand forward and said "Hi I'm Neeti, photographer and reporter." He took her hand in his and held it like for eternity. "Kashif, hamara business hain." "Acha kis cheez ka business hain aap ka?". Kashif thought for a moment, saw her camera and said "Camera, TV, video". "Cameras... gosh I love cameras. This is given to me by my firm but I have one of my own. Its completely beautiful and the lenses are so ..." she went on and on and on. He only kept looking at her and nodding his head with the sound of any familiar word.

By the time they reached Bandra, she had explained the entire history of cameras. Not once did Kashif interrupt her. "Oh that's my home there. Thank you so much for the lift." "Ji koi baat nahin... good night". She looked at her mobile again and made a grimace. He spontaneously asked her "Coffee?". "Cafe Coffee Day Dadar" came her reply.

They reached Dadar. When Kashif entered CCD, the attending guys looked at him with fright in their eyes. One of them almost spilt coffee on a customer. Kashif smiled and raised an eyebrow. Neeti was too busy to notice any of this. She kept looking at her mobile. They were directed to a table. Neeti ordered two Cappuchinos. Kashif didn't attempt to order anything different. Neeti realised that Kashif could not converse in English. She didn't make it obvious and subtly changed her conversations to Hindi. Kashif seemed comfortable. They chatted about various things. About business, politics, Mumbai. Neeti looked at her mobile one last time and threw it in her hold all. He asked her "Kya aap ka koi boyfriend hain?". She shifted a little in her seat and said "Hmmm nahin". "Fir tik hain, kyunki main yeh kehna chahta tha ki mujhe aap bahut achi lagti ho". Neeti smiled, blushed and laughed. She paid closer attention to Kashif this time as he spoke about his Mumbai connections. She noticed that he was clean shaved, brown eyed and had a mole on his nose. He was not good looking but his smile lit his face like a shiny dew drop on a leaf.

The coffee was over and their conversations dimished with every passing moment. Neeti stood up and declared she would pay the bill. And without waiting for him to say anything, walked towards the counter and said to the cashier "Bill please!". The cashier promptly stood up and almost saluted her and said "No Ma'am today all drinks on the house". Neeti hardly believed her ears and jumped about the place. "Kashif aaj sab free hain idhar! Aree humne tho aur bhi lena chaiye tha. Hahahaha". Kashif murmured "Neeti, hamare saath rahoge tho sab free hoga." Neeti didn't hear clearly and asked "What?". He said "Kuch nahin ghar chalte hain!"

To be Continued...