The plagiarist
The plagiarist
The plagiarist
A rather sleepy coastal town. Its name-Mawzpur.In the heart of the town, there lay a community park. At its north end it was bound by a wall; broken in the middle through which tiny tots sneaked in to play.
At its southern end, there was a clock tower which always showed the time to be 3. Its eastern and western boundaries were bound by a clay wall.
There was a dusty lane behind the clock tower which always showed the time as 3, which was brightly lit of the early morning sun
A few paces eastwards, along the lane the Town Lending Library' could be reached.
Along the path from west, came 2 men on foot. One of them shorter than the other. The short one had a long beard. The other one was as tall as an electric pole. He had a clean shaven face with a well built body. He had a small hand bag and seemed like a crazy writer from all angles.
They walked through the narrow unkempt path of the library. An old woman was too busy sweeping next door to notice them. They entered in to the building very solemnly.
The first person who would be noticed was the librarian who sat behind his desk. He was a short and bearded man who wore a long shirt and never cared to tuck it in. His name was Sureshdas. He was notorious in the whole town for being a clockwork monster, and it was believed that he never shaved nor tucked in his shirt to save time. Was time a thing which we could deposit in banks and earn an interest?
The short guest placed his brown hands on the desk, and looked at the man without any expression."Morning Ramachandra I couldn't forward it to the publisher yesterday as I had to attend my nephews wedding. Tomorrow, I promise, I shall forward it. By the way it was an excellent piece of work. I can't believe that it was you.."
"Who told you rascal that he wrote it? I was the one who wrote it", asserted the tall man.
"Who is this?", Sureshdas asked the bearded man."This is Mr.Kapilsheikh, the real creator of the manuscript with you", there was a ghostly tone in Ramachandran's voice which reflected the guilt in his ghostly presence. He looked down.
"I want it back now!!!!!!!!", shouted the tall man.
The other man stood as silent as a statue and turned to leave. The librarian glanced into the eyes of the redeemed man and then faced the tall one, "He is the one who gave me this story for publishing and I can't give it back without his permission. How do you expect me to cancel the publication? They have already arranged an editing team for the work. It will be ridiculous", roared the furious goggled man.
The cold, gleaming and liquid eyes of Kapilsheikh penetrated the goggles of the bald man who was screaming.
By this time the bearded man walked towards the door of the room and Kapilsheikh too began retreating from the librarian and threw the day's daily at the mad man's face and in an instant they had vanished in the thin air and an aura was present after their absence.
He didn't care to go through the paper and put it aside and began mumbling. Little did he know the truth.
This part of the year was the time of the cyclones and strong winds-call it monsoon. Being a coastal town, Mawazpur was vulnerable to the eastern trade winds which brought in the devastating cyclones which sometimes cut off the town from the world. From the day 22nd November to 28th November Mawazpur was destined to face the worst due to the bad deeds of the residents.
There were no newspapers, television signals nor radio waves or any other communication links. The storm had taken its toll on the inventions of man which made them lazier.
Time was very valuable, is valuable and will always be valuable. But for the rich, idleness had consumed time and for the poor time was spent in hunger.
On the fateful night of the 29th of November the storm showed some signs of coming down. Sureshdas took this chance to go to his library to utilize some of its money as funds at home were scarce.
He reached the place on the pitch black night dripping in his raincoat and flopping in his wet slippers.
He opened the door and walked behind the desk and as he reached for his drawer when-he heard the sound of wet slippers behind the book rack.
He looked up to see kapilsheikh who looked at him happily. Under his shoulder he carried the bundle of paper, which was worth his life- From Darkness to Light'. Sureshdas screamed like a siren "help! Police! There is a thief! Stop!",
The screaming was lost in the sudden pour of rain. And in a bright flash of lightning, the fruit knife on the rotten apple on his desk was deeply buried in the abdomen of the librarian. The pain of Sureshdas was hidden behind the loud roar of the clouds. The pain turned into a loud crescendo and echoed in the dead ears of the wicked man.
Few hours later another flash of lightning along with a loud bang and burst of the monsoon explosion the stabbed man was woken up from his nightmare. He no longer felt anything. He felt as if the guts had leaked from him. He felt an enormous rage empowering him. Why? He didn't know.
He grabbed a bunch of bills from the drawer and trudged along the solitary and deserted path through which he had come. A strange feeling crept over him. He felt relieved of everything and felt as if he was freed from the sins on the planet.
He opened the squeaking door of his house and took off his wet clothes, put on a dry and warm dhoti and crashed in bed and soon was consumed by sleep.
"Screech", He was woken up by the loud screech of the Mahindra jeep, which was announcing the departing of the horrible storm. He immediately put on the shirt which was dry by now and rushed to the nearby dhabha to have a cup of steaming tea. As he neared the dhabha, he could spot a number of government vehicles moving in the opposite direction. He was not interested in them.
He went inside the dhabha, moved a chair and sat on it as he watched the news and waited for the waiter. He suddenly saw 2 familiar photos on the screen. The news which was read unveiled the drama behind the curtain.
Kapilsheikh and Ramachandran were friends. Ramachandran stole the novel which Kapilsheikh had written and forced the poor man to commit suicide by blackmailing about his affair with Sureshdas' daughter. He suicide on the 20th of November. On the 21st of November Ramachandran was found dead in his residence few hours after visiting the Lending Library.
Sureshdas' blood ran cold. Then who had visited him?
He couldn't help being frightened. He ran with his life from the dhabha to his home. On the way, he saw the news paper dropped down by the paper boy. He saw his photo, so he picked it up and glanced at it. It was titled Missing Link'. By the time his eyes swept across the columns, he knew that the breath of crime had blown away the sands of time allotted to him on the Blue Planet. He couldn't believe that he had completed the course of life so soon.
He stood at the gates of his house to see the police squandering in his peaceful surroundings, his daughter and her mother crying, feeling the loss of their one and only support. It was difficult for him to accept the truth. If he had thought once more?! What would be the loss? None, but he could have gained his valuable life.
Few days later, the phantom presence of the book man was informed about the case and its proceedings. The police had closed the Kapilsheikh suicide case. Handwriting experts proved that the writing in the document which was recovered from the library table was of Kapilsheikh and not of Ramachandran or Sureshdas himself even though it had the name of Ramachandran.
On table and the fruit knife which was used to stab the librarian, they found prints of Kapilsheikh. He was the 2nd accused in the Case. The librarian felt as if thousand blocks of bricks of sadness had fallen on his head
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