People walked all over me all the time. I didn’t say a word. I abided by the rules. Till those noisy, rude, impish kids stomped on my very respect. I had to say a stern ‘Excuse me’. Now no one comes around to bother me. They whisper warnings that the place is haunted.
‘The police says the increasing reckless killer may be a local..’
He open the door slowly.
“That killer in the news & all, you shouldn’t be opening door without checking-“
“But I know you are not” he said, as the plumber’s body fell to the floor.
“I didn’t do it” was his defense. But he was the most obvious to be the perpetrator. He fit the description, had means, was around, easy to arrest & they had no other suspect. In the times when Science is the state religion, he awaits execution by the Occam’s razor
Everyone was shocked when the police found a dead cat in a box in a nearby home. The owner pleaded the cat was alive & the police officer actually killed it. In the times when Science is the state religion, the officer now awaits trial for murdering Shrodinger’s cat.
The play area was empty. It had been inaugurated only yesterday, But that accident had freaked everyone. It wasn’t the child dying of a fall from a height of 13th or so floor. But, it was the fact that there were no high rises in the whole area.
Deeply rooted in Indian philosophical, perplexing, soaring in imagination, wonderfully improbable, intelligently abstruse.
In these stories, Dinker Charak weaves fifteen tales around characters whose insanity verges upon philosophical proclivity, whose simplicity only intensifies trifling incidents, whose circumstances rouses their dexterity, whose loneliness daunts and whose indiscriminate intelligence saves the day.