All India Literature Competition 2019-20
by The Creative Post
Winner – 14th Position
(Judges’ Choice)
—by Sreedurga S
–Reading Time – 12 min Approx
Having spoken for barely two minutes, ‘The Entrepreneur of The Year’, ‘The Man of The Show’, John Mascarenhas made an exit from the dais, leaving a thunderous applause hovering in the backdrop. John was one of the mainstream businessmen of the year. With half a billion shares in the stock market, and several small-scale industries of his already huge enterprise branching rapidly, he was sure to build an empire of his own.
He seemed to be in a rush and immediately drove away in his latest edition Rolls Royce. 
Rakesh’s eyes immediately recognized the fancy number when the car passed the 34th Lane Rhodrand Street, “Look Nisha, didn’t I tell you about John, that’s his car”, he screamed and almost immediately felt embarrassment seep through his veins as he realized he just shouted in public, announcing his extreme fan-based love for John. He became conscious of a hundred eyes staring at him and Nisha teasingly laughed. Three years into marriage and they had proved to be the best couple and even earned enough envious smiles from their colleagues. The icing in the cake was that both worked in the same firm and sometimes either the one or both got promoted; a lucky wheel was surely a crime partner of their lives.
Presently, they were at the counter waiting for their turn to order their cappuccinos and she whispered in his ears very silently, “On a very serious note, I have been pondering and just came upon this idea of letting u know that I am absolutely fine with you quitting your job and trying your luck at John Louis Mascarenhas Enterprises”. We would surely be able to meet our financial requirements since I have also taken up additional assignments from an intermediary firm. Rakesh’s heart skipped a beat. It was exactly what he wanted to say, and he gave her a peck on the cheek. Nisha gave him a loving smile in response and as she turned her head her lips gradually paved way for a lopsided smile. She rubbed her thumb on her blue pendant.
Two days for the interview to take place. Rakesh was very well versed in his field of hydraulic engineering and his experience certificate pronounced clearly about the same. He had attended dozens of interviews at that time it was clearly more of a dream than ambition to get selected.
John’s day was inevitably jam-packed with never- ending client meetings and cite visits. Danger too was a sure play; a companion and he was well aware of those who wanted to bring down his company. But John was well versed in the game. He knew when and where things needed to change, transformed, and even ‘destroyed’. That was a word he loved – ‘destroy’! “Sir, the clients have been waiting for you”. John had prepared for nights at a stretch for this client meeting since it was just more than a client meeting.
The meeting was with Gregory Sampson, the vice-president of Bosch Rexroth. If only the outer world knew about this client meeting, he laughed, he was a pro at keeping secrets. The meeting started in a few minutes. “Slowly, but effectively we could manipulate the control of the water flow through specially built lock gate machines. These machines are a system engineered by a specialized branch of engineers within our company. They are capable of releasing deadly gases like cyanide, anthrax and amatoxin into the water in perfect ratios just so to ensure that the ones ingesting it would surely procure dangerous diseases or chronic illnesses but wouldn’t get killed. 
Our initial plan is to attain a ‘city without water’ and then progressively obtain a country abolishing any water systems.
This could only be caused by injecting fear in people. People should totally abstain from touching water and then this would turn into a mass detestation of drinking water as well. They would then start searching for an apt substitute, this is where we succeed. Our new product a mixture of chlorinated water and newly found hydrogen compound by the name of xelox, would be introduced to the government and once authorized would slowly be released through these existing water pipelines, with the only exception that not even a single drop of pure water would reach the people”.
In addition, for several of the day to day cleaning chores people would be forced to use jet sprays of air which would again mean a substantial growth to our company’s ‘air inventory’ sector.” A few years into the horrendous task of paying the ever-hiking water bills people would switch to using our air spray systems forever. This would inevitably mean that top quality water could only be obtained by well-established corporate industries or multi-millionaires. Something as simple as water could change our entire game, you see”. John stopped a while waiting for Sampson’s reply and the later gave a huge smile. The discussion was further about when to sign the agreement and about the essential proceedings required to procure a license from the government, creating a false document about a possible damage in the large network of pipeline systems underground. This was the only means of installing the lock gate machines.
John raced to his cabin for there was a long line of interviewees waiting to try their luck at his desk. The fourth in line was Rakesh and his former excitement seemed to be long gone. Sweat pearls were evident on his forehead and conjointly an anxious face. When it was his turn he sat down on the chair but made no movement to even look at John’s face. He seemed worried beyond words, then in a sudden spur he blurted, “Your meeting took place in the third floor of this building and your voice was clear and crisply heard near the male lavatory. There might have been a damage with your noise block systems or a work by an enemy working internally”. “I am not letting you get away for manipulating for the bad of humans.
‘A city without water’ would remain a dream etched in your brains and hell with you to even imagine annihilating one of the most used and essential resources of nature”.
He firmly grasped onto his document and then walked away from John’s cabin, after having given a tight snap. “A man with a brown suit and a leopard printed file holder, salt and pepper hair-style”, John told over the phone in a grave voice, two minutes after Rakesh left the cabin. Rakesh was left dumb struck, felt detested and broken but had surely made-up his mind and was just making a turn around the town hall corner when two bullets struck his backbone. It was clearly the work of a sharp shooter, surely an employee of John’s, he felt, but who? He was lost from doing justice to the people and himself; mourned silently for his fellow human beings, and tears dropped from his eyes thinking about his wife, his relatives before falling on the street. His eyes looked up for the last time and all he saw was a shooter, the face a blur, but a shining blue object hanging from a chain off the neck of the shooter. The swirling sprinkler system of the garden near the town hall, sprinkled drops of water into John’s lips before he took his last breath.
—by Sreedurga S
