How I Stopped Thinking...

“Have you ever loved anyone?” she asked me. And, to be honest, I didn’t know what to say. It was an old place, one which was handed down from generations. The manager of the bar, Mile, was an old friend & so he didn’t mind me hanging around there. I used to tell him that I used to hang around his bar looking for inspiration. I used to tell him that the hordes of people who come down to his place, each with their own stories and sorrows and joys made me feel great. But he knew, as did I, deep in my heart, that I was there only because of the alcohol. But, was that the only reason? I wonder I met her in the bar itself. She was a journalist, who had started with a local newspaper. When she saw me she couldn’t believe her luck. You see, I am a bit of a local celebrity. I am a writer and my books are fairly popular, in their own, pulp fiction sort of way. So, naturally, she was excited to interview me; while I, on the other hand, despised such interviews. But I thought wha

Tchaikovsky was playing in the room when we entered. I don’t remember which of his compositions it was, but it sounded vaguely familiar. The room itself didn’t scream “classical music fan”, but the record collection near the sink said otherwise. His name was Maxwell Steinberg and someone had killed him, again. December 1992 As a young cop, who had just joined the force, and whose only source of knowledge about cops were the movies he had seen, I was as green as they come. First week in, I learnt that real cops do not work like the ones in the movies. There were no “errant cops” who break all laws to uphold the justice system nor were there fast paced, flying car chases through narrow lanes of the city. Car chases usually happened on the fast lanes or freeways and almost always ended with the miscreant getting caught. But one day everything changed for me & to a large extent for our entire precinct. I was in the precinct that day when the call came through.

I was a different man when I met her, different from what I am today. I was angry, depressed, suicidal and optimistic, all at the same time, a bad combination I must say. But she came in my forlorn life as a breath of fresh air, or rather I should say, as a car that backed out of the driveway and slammed right into my car. It was one of those days for me when the day and night just kind of turned into a haze of purple smoke and empty beer cans and I had no idea where I was. It would appear that I was inside a pub nearby drinking my 8 th tequila shot when someone came rushing in and said that my car was in an accident. I was kind of surprised, considering that I was not at the wheel of said car, but then I still went along, half expecting a mess of a car crash, only because I didn’t bother to read the sign that said “NO DOUBLE PARKING”. This had happened to me before, no big deal, I told myself. As soon as I stepped out of the pub, the sun hit me in the eyes and I almost re

The night was dark and it was snowing. He was driving as fast as he could. It was his son’s birthday and he wanted to make it in time. He looked at the passenger seat and saw the model train set he had purchased. He knew his son would be happy; the kid just adored train sets.  The freeway was more or less empty, but the snow falling was making driving difficult. He had to drive cautiously even though he had the urge to race on through. Just then his wife called. “Honey, where are you? The party’s about to start and everyone is more or less here.” “I am on the way dear. The snow is making it difficult to drive. I will make it home soon. Don’t worry, just stall a little bit. Get that joker to crack some jokes.” “Oh, alright, but get home fast.” He was now more determined to get home fast. He put his foot down on the gas and started speeding up. Just as he took the last exit off the freeway, the snowfall stopped. He was thankful as he could now reach home