A Nocturnal Affair

“Nice chap, that Anshuman”, thought Kriti. Anshuman, like Kriti, was one of the graveyard shift employees at the company. It’s been about three weeks since he had joined as a lateral hire but he rarely interacted with anyone and seemed to have no interests outside of work. In fact, everyone thought of him as a rather snobbish social recluse. That was until last Thursday. On Friday though, Kriti had started viewing him under a whole new light.

Just as Kriti had arrived for her shift, she received some bad news; her little sister, who has never been a very healthy child, was again down with fever. Normally, temperatures are usual in a child and not something an elder sibling should worry about, but it would not be a story if everything were, indeed, normal. It so happens that her mother undergoes bouts of anxiety every time that happens. And as always, she was already wailing by the time Kriti spoke to her. In between hiccups, she, yet again, asked Kriti to board the first Delhi bound flight and be with family. Now, her father had been handling her mother’s hysterics for the past 20 years and would have done so now as well, had he not mixed his scotch with a dash of driving about a year back. Since then, Kriti has been the man of the house.

As Kriti hunched in her chair, pondering over her situation in her cubicle; this would be her third leave in the past two months and the boss was not exactly supportive the last time around; she noticed a pair of legs approaching her. Looking up, she saw Anshuman hurriedly walking towards her with a look on his face, she could have never associated with him; a look of concern.

The feet now stopped and the torso was leaning over to Kriti, a bit too close for comfort. “He has absolutely no etiquettes about personal space”, thought she. “You look worried. What’s the matter?”, he enquired. Kriti was in no mood to turn her personal worries in to office gossip, much less share it with a virtual stranger like Anshuman. “Go away”, she muttered. “You can trust me, I want to help. Just look at me once”, pleaded Anshuman.

Heavens know if it was the vodka or plain dilemma, once her eyes met his, words just tumbled out. She spoke about everything from the bully in sixth standard to her father’s rather ill-timed demise. By the time she realised having spoken too much, she had already told Anshuman about her dilemma; to stay here and let her mother suffer or to be with her and risk losing the job. A call centre job is not exactly lucrative but that’s all her qualifications allow her to do.

To her utter surprise, Anshuman offered to cover for her while she visits her family. She could never have imagined anyone ruining their weekend for her, much less him. All through the travel, she kept thinking about the conversation and those eyes, which compelled her to tell everything. His eyes. She had made up her mind and was excited to return.

On the day of her return, she arrived a while earlier than the rest. Making sure that nobody’s looking, she placed a note on Anshuman’s desk, using the keyboard as paperweight. She once again checked if it expressed her emotions;

“I wonder how will I ever repay you.

You have been guardian angel.

But there’s more to the situation,

I have fallen for you and that’s the real trouble”

Dinner on Friday, watsay?

-          Kriti

"Corny, but this will have to do", Kriti said to herself.

She keenly observed Anshuman as he arrived at his desk. Those eyes of his! Moving around, observing everything. There was a casual glance and the piece of paper smoothly found its way in to his pocket. Anshuman then focused on the screen, without even a nod of acknowledgement in her direction. Kriti was barely done cursing herself for being so stupid when she spotted that little piece of paper under her keyboard. Her curiosity turned in to elation as she read the content;

“Marathalli Circle, 11 PM. Don’t tell anyone.”

On Saturday, a jogger spotted her lying on the side of the road. Her blood drained out, she appeared unnaturally white for a human. Her eyes were wide open, focusing hard on something, as if hypnotised to a tranquil state. No signs of struggle or resistance, noted the autopsy doctor. She however, yet again, noticed those eerie holes digging deep in to her neck, but as per instructions, did not mention it in her report, just like the past five times, lest chaos breaks out.