Escape to nowhere

It’s very hot here. Hotter than I’m used to. The green lawns and airy homes is what I am missing in my hot apartment building. We are here on a project to interview a politician who is accused of assisting Pakistan in the war against India by giving the information of the Indian army to Pakistan. It needs courage to accuse such a powerful politician. The courage had been shown by a young journalist of twenty-three.( The person wanted to remain unnamed.)

I am shaken totally out of my thoughts at the sound of the door thrusting open. This is a habit of my roommate Ahana that I totally despise.

“What the hell are you doing in bed now,”Ahana asks


“Goodness, don’t say that you don’t know this.”

The over reactive Ahana is still what she was earlier.

“No, I really don’t know”

“The journalist who was investigating the politician case is killed.”

“What? okay, but what are you doing here.You should be at the crime scene, reporting.”

“Are you planning to get me killed?”

“Oh no, I’m dead serious.”

“No, I’m going no where near that place.”

“Okay, then I’ll do that.”

“No you’re also going nowhere near that place.”

“I am.”

I quickly take a shower. Now I’m at the table eating my breakfast, I see my smartphone buzz.

“Hello,” I say

“Yes, I heard that you are trying to report the respected politician?”

“Yes.” That voice I can recognize very well, The director of our firm.

“Well you’re doing none of that.Your project is canceled. You can go on a nice vacation. If you want your job, do this.”

What, RESPECTED POLITICIAN. I mutter under my breath.

And yes I’m going far from this world of puppets. I’ve recently bought a house in an outback of Allahabad for my retirement.

I reach the neighborhood.

Its ten’o clock. I’m sitting on my porch with a book. I am literally sitting with the book. Playing the events of yesterday in my mind. When suddenly I hear a sound of mourning. I realize it’s coming from the house next door. I get up and go there.

“What’s the matter?” I ask to a woman who has composed herself.

“The son has got killed for raising his voice against heavy taxation” She says.

“By whom?”

“The local politician.”

“When?”The journalist me asks

“I don’t know, but the body arrived at 9:30”

“Why don’t you go to the police?”

“Do you want us killed?”

I escaped from a world of happy puppets to the world of forced ones

And thus my escape was to nowhere.