History Repeats

Hallo every one! It’s been a long time since I wrote to you. But suddenly, last night I found myself all alone, with nothing to do, in the open; under the sky with stars twinkling; clouds running past like the soldiers of the fifth brigade.

It was a rare moment. I can’t remember the last time I experienced this bliss.

That was when my thoughts went back to our school days. 

History repeats itself 

It was past midnight. I was walking in the hockey field. It was pitch black,

I was there because of a silly bet that I would go to the Basketball court, midnight, draw a circle at its center and return all alone.

Those were the days when a deadly hyena was doing the rounds at night. Rumor or otherwise, we were all terribly scared.

After the circle part, as I was heading back towards my house (Gupta),

I heard a twig break behind me. I froze in my tracks. Another twig breaks, closer this time. I whirl around, there, is a medium-sized Hyena, eyes gleaming in the dark. As I struggled to draw breath, it casually ambled toward me from 20 feet away.


What do I do?


That’s when I realized: a saikorian needn’t travel far from his own doorstep to be so scared silly that he soils his pants.

But too late to realize it was just a dog. 

Why am I confessing this to you? Because, to prove a theory that

“History repeats itself” 

To earn my living, I have to do very odd and difficult things, like work in the most remote of places on earth. Where, anything can happen any time. 

I now stay in a place, “slightly northwest of Vizag.” This place is so far from Vizag that to get there I have to take the train, then the rickety bus, then transfer to a rickshaw briefly before walking one or two miles.

So you shouldn’t be surprised that it wasn’t the safest place in the world, specially, after you are told that the tribes there casually chop off your head for no good reason and dutifully hand over your chopped head in the nearest police station and surrender. 

But you put on an air of false confidence when you’re the only brave saikorian in a poor tribal community. In retrospect, it was an idiotic place to live. 

One night I lay sleeping on my hardwood bed wrapped in a comfortable blanket,

A woman’s scream startled me awake. Groggy, I stumbled to the door in my lungi and stepped out onto the open. There, the woman who lived in the other half of the house, whom I had never spoken to, earlier, was wailing about having just been robbed.


What do I do?


I tried calming her down. I asked if she was fine. I said not to worry. I told her that everything was going to be all right, that it would be okay –


Holy sh**, is that a guy with a knife?


Emerging from the shadows and sauntering up towards me, was a large black man, a large knife dangling at his side as casually as if he were carrying a jar of extra-crunchy peanut butter. He was wearing nothing but what we call ‘drawers’. His skin, glistening like that of a freshly bathed buffalo. 

Immediately sensing danger, my every saikorian reflexes sprang into full action-hero mode. I turned to the woman and stated bravely,


“Ugh. kya – Woh?, (inaudible gurgling noise)”


She looked at me with great pity, I thought, she was expecting me to go and spank that ugly- black man-with-a-knife as we spank a naughty kid.

By that time, that man came closer to me. He looked even more deadly and sinister on close-up. He eyed me suspiciously. I tried to force a smile.

I had never been this close to a huge ugly- black man-with-a-knife, with an actual gleaming blade before, and it was not proving to be a pleasurable experience.  

That was when History repeated, I soiled my lungi.

But too late to realize, the ugly, black man was the husband of the woman in trouble. 

Good luck and Bye. If you like this and want more, just write back. But if you feel sick, keep it to yourself.