Sun was setting and darkness was descending, faster inside the mango orchard, on this winter evening. Two men, one a guru in a red robe, and the other his disciple, were drinking country liquor sitting around a woodfire.
“Such an auspicious no moon night rarely comes by with all heavenly bodies in a state of alignment,” said the man in red robe, “ my luck!I have nothing to offer to mother; where shall I find a human corpse at this time of the day?”
“It is her work,” said the other man, Nitai, “she will make arrangement for her work. Just wait and watch.”
“I shall set you up for an employment,” said Nitai’s letter, “bring your son too.”
“Baapu how long?” asked the little boy, “It is getting dark, I am hungry, my feet hurts.”
“Almost there, see the mango orchard,” Father and son have been walking for almost an hour, “we shall cut through it.”
“Brother you arrived,” Nitai stood up, “ what took you so long? Let me take you to Raja sahab; beta you rest here, drink some water.”
Father was not comfortable leaving his son in an unknown place with a stranger. Successive crop failures had made life difficult. In his eagerness and anxiety to land a job, father did not hear the muffled cry of his son, when the man strangled the boy after offering a laced drink.
“You made your own the arrangement mother,” said the man in red robe, “ now time for worship.”
Word count: 259
This is a post written in response to #TellTaleThursday prompt of Anshu and Priya. More posts in response to the prompt may be found here.