Fiction | Mystery | Suspense | India
Mystery in the Mountains
Rain splattered outside.
Jagdish wrapped his fingers around the steel cup, the heat of the warm chai seeping into his skin. The shack had a cheap tarpaulin roof, which leaked water at places. From a hole on one side, he could look down at his village. Dusk had come prematurely today, and the mountainside was quickly turning dark. Specks of light popped up against the oncoming gloom, as if a silent murmur passed between the village-folk.
Some of the houses were yet dark. One of these caught his eye.
‘Late as always’, he whispered to himself.
Mud splashed outside, and the wheels of a cycle came to stop. Under the glow of the halogen lamp, the shape of a boy appeared. He was a year younger and considerably slimmer than Jagdish, who had begun to accumulate some weight despite being only 18. The boy got down from the cycle and propped it next to the shed. Pulling a cigarette from his pocket, he lit it by the lighter dangling from the counter, and walked over to his seat.
‘This is my second chai, just so you know,’ said Jagdish.
